One
by Miami Blackheart
Summary: It was just for the night that they decided to let their guards down. But before they knew it, things spiraled out of their control. And now the night and one secret bound Michael and Nikita together. -Division days-
1. Chapter 1: Hang ups

**Hello, lovely and beautiful people!**

**I'll keep my A/N short this time (haha!) so we'll go directly to the point here.**

**I finally summed up the courage to do a Nikita multi-chapter fic. But I'll start with baby steps so this will only be **_**three**_** chapters. And for the mean time, the story and the first chapter will start off with a T rating, but when I post the second chapter, it's gonna change to M (ho ho! *wink wink*). So if anyone doesn't want to continue reading by then, that's alright… I'm actually scared to know what you guys are gonna think of the next chappie. Seriously. Hahaha.**

**So anyway! Just like in my other stories, there will be an actual line taken from the series in which the story will be based on. But this time, there will be two lines per chapter – one at the beginning, and one at the end. It'll be a mix of lines from different episodes so… tell me if it fits and works! :)**

**Oh, and THANK YOU so much to all the people who read and reviewed my other stories. They're just so inspiring and heartwarming.**

**Well, that's it for now. Nothing more but to scroll down and read! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>One<strong>

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><p>"<em>The only time I ever questioned your loyalty was during your relationship with Nikita.<em>" – 1x06

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Hang-ups<span>

Las Vegas bored Michael.

He didn't specifically know why. Probably because he's seen people waste their life away for greed; and in his line of work, greed made a person a step closer to being as dead as a doornail. Or probably because he's seen people who have become instant millionaires overnight and poor as a pauper the next day. Or probably because the place just poses a certain temptation to all those who walk in its multi-lighted roads. Or probably because this is just his nth visit to the place because of a mission.

Either way, it was just the same old story everytime.

And yet, what amazed him, people are still so gullible to the charm of the place. They just never learn.

_Well_, he thought, the place didn't get the name Sin City for nothing.

And he did not want anything more to do with the place as he already had too many sins that he could ever atone for in his lifetime.

But then again, who was _he_ to judge on all those people?

Especially when he can barely stay away from _his_ temptation.

"You look stressed."

_Speak of the Devil_…

Michael swiveled his barstool around to the direction of the owner of the voice. A warm smile greeted him and that alone could have chiseled away part of his burden. But then seeing her outfit of an elegant one-shouldered, silver sequined cocktail dress that hugged all the right places and her patent black heels made him feverish. Turning back to face the bar, Michael commented, "I feel stressed."

"Aww," he heard Nikita say as she took up the seat to his right, "talk to me."

"Forget about it, Nikita," he said softly, swirling the scotch in his glass. He took a swig, finishing its contents, letting the warmth of the alcohol spread through his body. He wasn't that much of a heavy drinker but he did have a high tolerance against getting drunk. In fact, he couldn't even remember a specific memory where he was passed-out-drunk. Not even after the death of his family. He just didn't see the point of wallowing in one's sadness with alcohol.

Or maybe it was just his too-many-sins-that-he-can-atone-for theory again.

Because alcohol can make a person do stupid things.

"Vodka please, double."

Michael raised an eyebrow to his partner. _Always the hard drinks_, he thought. But one thing he had to give her, the woman drank like a man when she needed to be. She had such a high tolerance to alcohol that it amazed him. In fact, when he thought about it, he never saw his ex-student drunk before. Tipsy, yes, but never drunk.

When her ordered arrived, he watched as Nikita took the shot glass and drank its contents in one gulp. She closed her eyes for a moment as the heat from the drink seared her throat and the smell of the alcohol burned inside her nose.

She was always so full of surprises.

"Thank you, by the way," he told her as another round of scotch arrived in his hands.

A crease formed in between her eyebrows as her eyes fluttered open to gaze at him, "For what?"

"For saving the mission," he told her, "If it had been any other agent, everything could have gone sideways."

"Well," she smiled at him, "any other agent didn't have an excellent mentor like I did."

He smiled back at her. It was true though. If it had been any other agent, Michael didn't know what could've happened. Probably him getting buried six feet below the ground. If it wasn't for Nikita's quick thinking and superb tradecraft skills, their newly accomplished mission, one that they have planned for for months could've went down the drain in mere seconds. All because a few unexpected guards decided to play Hero Of The Day. Michael was pretty proud at the moment for training Nikita so well.

"Miss, would you care to dance?"

Michael and Nikita looked over their shoulder and saw this naïve and innocent looking man smiling at the latter. Dressed up for the glitzy setting in which they were in, he was rather good-looking, if you preferred the Ethan Hunt kind of guy.

Michael rolled his eyes as he turned back to the bar. This was one thing he had to tend with whenever Nikita was present. Other men approaching to buy her a drink, asking her to dance, and whatnot. Not that he could blame them. Apart from her physical beauty, Nikita just exuded this charm that just draws people in when she walks into a room. She was also smart, cheerful, sweet, funny, deadly… So many things that he could list that made her the ultimate honey trap.

But for every man that went up to her, it was another mark against him. Another person that he envied. Because they could do things with her that he could not do. Not without a multi-million black ops program to hunt them down.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Nikita gave the man a heart-melting smile and said, "Oh, I would love to but it's just that," she paused and placed her hand on Michael's back, causing him to stiffen slightly. She said in a low voice, "my friend here is going through such a rough break-up, and I don't want to leave him here all alone."

Michael swallowed the last contents of his glass. He reached up and loosened his bowtie. It was getting warm and Nikita's hand on his back wasn't helping. The corner of his lips went slightly up. So, he thought, she was letting the guy down easy.

"Well, if you ever want to have some fun, I'll just be over there."

"I know," she chimed at him. When the man left, Nikita swiveled back to face the bar and said, softly, "_God_, I hate him."

Michael raised an eyebrow at her. This wasn't her usual reaction. After a request like that, she would normally say something that she liked about the person, and how she would have liked to go, consistently rubbing it in Michael's face that someone wanted her. Nikita never usually passed judgment on people.

"Something bothering _you_?" He asked her.

She met his gaze for a moment before letting it drop to her newly refilled shot glass. It was brief but Michael saw the turmoil behind Nikita's brown eyes. She sighed, as if the whole world was on her shoulders, "I'm sick of it."

Michael shifted in his seat, turning his body towards her. A crease furrowed in between his eyebrows. "Of what?"

"Of _this_!" Nikita exclaimed in a whisper. She brought down a fist on the bar and shook the counter, earning surprised stares from other patrons and the bartender. But she didn't mind them. She threw another look at Michael and said, exasperatedly, "How… we live, lying to people and ourselves, going from beautiful places to another but never really enjoying it... Everything's just a fake."

"Nikita," he said, surprised at the sudden change in her attitude. Placing a gentle hand on her knee, he tried to reassure her, "we do what we do to protect–"

"I _know_!" Nikita replied, pushing Michael's hand away. She was losing control of her anger and it was seeping through her voice. She tightened the grip on her shot glass till her knuckles turned white. "But who protects _us_?"

"That's why we have each other."

"Yeah," Nikita scoffed indignantly, "till the next mission."

"Where is all this coming from?" He asked her.

She looked up and stared beyond his right shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw that it was the man from earlier. The one who asked her to dance. As if on cue, the man looked up and when he saw that Nikita's stare was onto him, he gave a small wink. As Nikita replied with a humorless smile, the little green-eyed monster within Michael threatened to thrash at that point.

Michael gritted his teeth as he turned his attention back to Nikita. She gazed into his eyes, searching for his real emotions. And she saw what she anticipated: jealousy. After a tense moment, Michael blinked, replacing his expression with an emotionless one, "So what's your point?"

"He only asked me because he thought you and I weren't together." Nikita reasoned softly, swiveling her chair so that her back was against the counter. She watched as the other patrons were dancing so gracefully to the melodious classical music coming from hidden speakers all around. How she envied those who were laughing, throwing their cares in the air and not giving a damn. How she wanted to be like them. How she wanted to spend time, this night in this beautiful place, with the man she loved. Yes, she admitted it already that she loved him… he was just so near, just an arm's length.

"We aren't."

So near it hurt.

"_I know_," she hissed. She gave Michael a steely look out of the corner of her eye, "But that's it. No one would believe it."

"I believe –"

"You said so yourself in St. Petersburg that no one would buy that I was date-less," she interrupted him, turning to face him directly this time. "Or single, for that matter. I wish I wasn't. Not for a mission. For real. For once, I just want to be… _normal_."

Michael sighed. He knew what Nikita felt. He felt it too at times. Actually, even more now than ever. He wanted to live a life as normally as the next person, with Nikita by his side. No more guns, no more killing, no more lying… God only knows how much he wanted that. And also because he had finally come to accept the fact that he might actually need her in his life.

But, he had a promise, a duty. To his country, to his family, to Percy, and to his self… And no matter how much he cared for Nikita at that point, no matter what he wanted, maybe… maybe it just wasn't meant to be. He told her firmly, "That can't happen."

Nikita knew Michael long enough to know that he was going to say something like that. She anticipated this. She expected it but still, it didn't lessen the hurt. Her perfectly made-up face may have remained stoic but her eyes said it all. Michael saw it too but he kept silent. It clawed him in the inside but he had to do it. For both of their sakes.

"I know that too." Nikita whispered softly. All the sadness, anger, hate and hurt she felt went into those two words. She hoped that by letting go of the words, the feelings she harbored would go along with it and leave her in peace. But she found no solace in that.

And so did Michael.

He knew he hurt Nikita so much this time. She was just being honest with him. Just as she had always been. He had been honest with her too… in St. Petersburg. A year has gone by since then and he had distanced his self from her. Hoping that with the detachment, he'd be able to focus on building a professional wall between them. She tried her best to keep in line too, he was grateful of her for that. But there were times when she'd fall back and tease and flirt with him. Nothing more though. She didn't push him to the edge because she knew he still held onto a raw scar that had yet to be healed.

But no matter how hard Michael tried to put up a barrier, everything worked against him to bring it down. Division, even Percy, didn't help. He kept on sending the two of them on missions, local and overseas, this past year. The two of them were an invincible tandem, as Percy would say. But he was oblivious – or so Michael hoped and prayed – to the underlying current that went underneath the two of them.

It's been a _long _year.

Nevertheless, Michael had to admit, he and Nikita did make the perfect pair. Perfect, beautiful… yet deadly.

Like a honey trap.

And like a honey trap, once you're in, there's no going back.

Michael looked at Nikita, who had turned back to watch the waltzing people with a dejected expression in her eyes. How could he ever say no to a woman like her? She was _Nikita_. Stunning, strong, independent, iron-willed Nikita who only wanted him to love her. He should've considered himself lucky. A murderer like him shouldn't have been allowed to have someone as caring as Nikita.

But could he be really the one to love her enough?

Did he still have place in his fragmented heart to give her what she wanted?

Of course he did. Even if he couldn't admit it to anyone, not even to his self, deep inside, he was alone too. Waiting for someone to help make him whole again. If only he'd learn to let go and give in…

Wait.

Michael thought for a second. It's been a long time. After all he's done in service to Division, he deserved a break, didn't he? Nikita deserved one too, for many things and at the very least, for saving his life earlier. Ever since St. Petersburg, they needed a chance to become vulnerable again, to feel what it was like to be human again. Why couldn't they have this one night to themselves? Enjoy it and be normal for once in what seemed to be ages ago?

Even if there would be a limit to what they'd do tonight, he could, however, give Nikita a dance. He owed her one anyway.

After drinking the contents of his refilled scotch glass, which has turned bland as the ice already melted due to his neglect of it, Michael stood up. He stepped in front of Nikita's line of sight, earning a questioning yet annoyed look from her. One side of Michael's lip lifted as he offered a hand towards her, palm up. An invitation. A request.

For forgiveness.

For normalcy.

For an indulgence.

For love.

For one night.

"I like this song," he told her.

Nikita hesitated for a moment, unsure of what this all meant. Then she blinked and gave a nod and a small smile. She placed her hand in Michael's awaiting palm and slid off the barstool. He returned her smile as he led her to the dance floor.

_Moon River,_

_Wider than a mile,_

_I'm crossing you in style,_

_Someday_

He slipped one hand on Nikita's slender waist as she placed one on his shoulder and their other hands clasped together and held up just slightly away from their shoulders. They swayed gently to the music, letting go of their worries and succumbing to the melody. Nikita stepped closer and leaned her chin on her hand that was on Michael's shoulder. Maybe happiness wasn't that so far away yet.

_Oh, dream maker,_

_You heartbreaker,_

_Wherever you're goin',_

_I'm going your way_

Michael gently twirled Nikita in his arms. She let out a small giggle. A smile replaced both of their hardened lips and heart. They both enjoyed this. They both needed this.

_Two drifters,_

_Off to see the world,_

_There's such a lot of world,_

_To see_

Nikita let out another little laugh as Michael dipped her to the floor so low that the ends of her long hair were about to touch the floor. But he held her securely that she wasn't afraid. Whether it was secured to her body or to her heart, it didn't matter.

_We're after the same rainbow's end,_

_Waiting 'round the bend,_

_My huckleberry friend,_

_Moon River and me_

The song ended but Nikita and Michael didn't let go yet. They held on to each other. The DJ spoke into the microphone about changing the genre of the songs now but they didn't notice.

_Hey, over there,_

_Please forgive me,_

_If I'm coming on too strong_

They relished in the moment because they haven't been this close to each other in such a long time.

_Hate to stare,_

_But you're winning,_

_And they're playing my favorite song_

Nothing was said in between them but they could feel the openness and vulnerability of and for the other.

_So come near, a little closer,_

_Wanna whisper in your ear,_

_Make it clear, a little question,_

_Wanna know just how you feel_

It wasn't long before they noticed that the crowd around them changed. It was now more of people their age or younger. Most of them were drunk. The two of them have been out of society for so long that they didn't know how to act normally around these people. Just being themselves. So Michael decided to take Nikita's hand and get out of the dance floor before things got out of hand.

_If I said my heart was beating loud,_

_If we could escape the crowd somehow,_

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?_

But Nikita didn't budge. Michael looked at her over his shoulder and he froze. She looked at him with a rather feral look in her darkened eyes. She was biting the inside of her lower lip as it slowly formed into a mischievous smirk.

'_Coz you feel like paradise,_

_And I need a vacation tonight,_

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?_

Nikita closed the gap in between them in two strides. She placed a hand on the center of Michael's chest and looked in to his eyes. Her hypnotizing gaze captured and kept his attention and focus. He could only watch her helplessly as she suddenly went down on him, swaying her hips sensuously slow to the music and dragging her hand in a deliberate, enticing zigzag manner along his body.

_Hey, you might think,_

_That I'm crazy,_

It was getting hot. Under the feel of her fingers, Nikita could only imagine what she felt: a taut chest, ridged abdomen, strong muscles that any woman could just lust for in her time of need…

_But you know I'm just your type_

Michael's breath got caught in his throat as Nikita made past his navel. He had to stop her before she got any lower, before he lost all of his control. She was seducing him and he was letting her. But did he have the strength to stop her when he wanted it too?

_I might be a little hazy,_

_But you just cannot deny,_

_There's a spark in between us,_

_When we're dancing on the floor_

But just as she reached Michael's silver belt buckle, Nikita stopped. She looked up at him and saw his restrained expression. She leered. Her eyes shone a playful yet shamelessly lascivious glint that Michael found so… _incredibly sexy_.

_Give me more,_

_I want to see it,_

_So I'm asking you tonight_

Nikita inhaled through gritted teeth as she slid her body upward to stand fully, pressing her whole body to Michael's as she did so. As her nose finally brushed lightly against his, Michael couldn't help but notice the closeness of their warm bodies. Thigh to thigh, hip to hip, chest to chest…

His eyes darkened as they strayed to her alluring, slightly parted red lips, so dangerously near his that all he needed was to close the gap. Their alcohol-laced breath that grazed their each other's lips was ragged with all the suppressed tension and intimacy. He raised his gaze slowly, memorizing each tiny feature, to meet hers. As their eyes met, everything was lost.

_If I said my heart was beating loud,_

_If we could escape the crowd somehow,_

They moved to each other simultaneously. Eyes fluttered to a close, skins tingled, breathings hitched, heartbeats raced, lips touched…

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?_

But at the contact, Michael's conscience woke and senses wracked his body, squeezing his heart in two. He withdrew quickly, still closing his eyes, gasped for breath. Nikita felt the sudden change and opened her eyes to watch him. She saw the pain in his face and it hurt her too. She quickly feared that she may have just pushed him too far this time.

He was guilty.

He promised to his self that he'd never get close to another person until he got his revenge on Kasim. No, not even that. He told Elizabeth that there'd be no other woman besides her. He told her that just before she died...

Cheater. How could he do this to her?

When Michael opened his eyes, he saw Nikita looking at him with a concerned look on her face. This made him more miserable too. She didn't deserve this. She deserved more. He had to leave. Sending an apologetic look her way, he left the dance floor. Making his way by weaving through other bodies, he left her there alone.

'_Coz you feel like paradise,_

_And I need a vacation tonight,_

She was feeling guilty too.

When Michael looked at her, she saw all the pain and turmoil behind his eyes. She should've helped him with and not have made it worse. She watched his retreating back as he left. A sob was forming in her chest. She pushed him away. Just like she did with all the other people who cared for her before.

No. Not this time.

She left the dance floor and caught up with him just as he was about to leave the club. Closing her hand on his wrist, she tugged. He stopped and looked at her.

"I can't." He said.

"I know," she told him. "I'm sorry."

Those two words. Michael faced her, his eyebrows knitting together. She shouldn't be sorry. It wasn't her fault that he was damaged beyond repair, "No, Nikita, you're not –"

"Forget what happened." She placed a finger on his lips to silence him, "It's over and done. Just… Have a drink with me."

"I don't think that's such a good –"

A waiter carrying a tray of champagne passed by them, Nikita took two flutes from his silver salver. The man was about to protest but Nikita flashed a smile at him so he decided to keep quiet instead and went on his way, shaking his head. Holding up her newly acquired flute to Michael, she said, "One last. Please? Nothing more, I swear."

Michael eyed the sparkling wine for a moment, doubtful. He didn't want to add to the damage he has already done this evening. This push and pull of emotions was tiring the both of them. He looked at Nikita's hopeful expression and found himself being sucked in again.

_What the heck_, he thought, _it's not like one drink could hurt any more. _He may not be able to say no to her but he had to remember the limitations this time. He took the flute gently into his hand and led her to a vacant table.

One more indulgence, one more sin… it couldn't hurt, right?

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?_

They kept true to the each other's request and forgot about the earlier incident. They drank, talked, laughed, and joked all night... Things they would've normally done if circumstances were different, if everything wasn't so complicated.

But they never really learned that _one _night will never be enough.

As well as _one_ drink will never be enough.

_Would you hold it against me?_

So one drink led to another…

_The room was spinning. It was getting hot. So vivid were the colors. Everything was so _alive_._

And another…

_Red. Black. Red. Black. Red. _"_Red, 13._"

And another…

"_Let's go._"

And another…

"_That one._"

And another…

"_I do._"

And another…

_The sound of a gun cocking rang in the midnight air. _"_Get us there or I swear, I'll blow your head off._"

And another…

"_Just shut up and kiss me already._"

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><p>"<em>She always was the ultimate honey trap.<em>" – 1x14

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><p><strong>Dun dun dun dun~<strong>

**Was the last part confusing? If it was, I'm sorry. But I promise it'll all be explained in due time.**

**So how was it for a first chapter? (Personally, I thought it was a bit long and ohhhh the drama. Hahaha!)**

**But I want YOUR opinion! So please do leave a review! Bad or good, they're always welcomed!**

**The songs used in this chapter: Moon River by Andy Williams (such an old song), and Hold It Against Me by Britney Spears. Though for the last song, I **_**recommend**_** Sam Tsui's cover. I was listening to it while writing this. No offense to Britney, but the cover is like, **_**waaaaay**_** better. Well, for me anyway. And it suits this chapter better too. ;)**

**And lastly, Shane won in the TCAs – woo hoo! So a big CONGRATULATIONS to him! He totally deserved it! :) Maggie should've won too but… I don't really know why some people chose a 66 year old lady over **_**the **_**Maggie Q, the Ultimate BAMF.**

**Ugh, the injustice.**

… **Okay, shutting up now. So **_**Thanks for reading**_** and please review! Pretty please? And hopefully, I'll be able to post the next chapter *gulp* **_**soon**_**. **

**xx Dani**


	2. Chapter 2: Drunk With Ecstasy

**Hey hey, Mikita-ettes!**

**Okay, so first off, a humongous THANK YOU to those who read, and a special shout-out to those who reviewed! You're all so great and I learned things from your reviews that helped a lot! So thank you, thank you!**

**And I just wanna give my sincerest apologies to LatinaGurl96. I _really_** **feel bad that you have to rewrite your fic now because you were working on something very similar to this. Though you've already said that it's okay, it's just… I'm so sorry! :\**

**Also, I just wanna let this out: I swear, in all my writing experiences, this chapter has been, so far, one of the _hardest_ things I ever had to write. But since I decided to take a shot at an M rated fic, here it is (a**ctually turned out longer than I anticipated and expected. Haha). **The only problem I had here was that I actually didn't even know _what_ and _how_ to write it. In fact, there's one paragraph here that took up half a day for me to do. Still, I tried to do my best for you people. So please, forgive the writing if you find something wrong with it… Like, being long and dragging, etc... and, in what I think is, a sh*tlode of narrative details. O_O.**

**IMPORTANT: This is rated M for a _specific_ reason. It's your responsibility to know what you can and cannot read. Just saying. :]  
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**Anyway! This chapter will not exactly explain those things that happened at the end of Chapter 1. It'll be in the last chapter, the next one. But there are _some_ clues in here on what happened. Try to find it if you can. ;P**

**So, carry on! Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>So this is where the magic happens.<em>" – 1x17

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Drunk With Ecstasy<span>

The small, cramped, dimly-lit space was designed and built for one person. Not for two. But it was the best thing they had at the moment.

Actually, they didn't even mind where they were or how they got there.

All they knew and cared about was that they needed their hands on each other.

And fast.

And badly.

They were just that too far gone.

_Baby, can't you see_,

_I'm calling_,

So when Michael sat down on the fuzzy blue toilet seat cover and pulled Nikita towards him, she didn't need much encouragement.

_A guy like you_,

_Should wear a warning_

Not giving much care when her knees banged against either walls of the small room, Nikita straddled Michael's thighs with her own and attacked his lips with so much hunger that it robbed them of air, and of conscious thought. They were both shocked at the current that seemed to flow through them as their lips touched.

It's been so long.

Nikita grasped onto handfuls of Michael's hair as their lips melted against each other. Their tongues slipping to and from their mouths, mimicking the sweet actions of what they would like to do to each other if they had more room to spare. Michael had one hand securely placed behind Nikita's neck, supporting her, while his other hand roamed the length of her leg, the back of her knee, her thigh…

_It's dangerous,_

_I'm falling_

They broke away from the kiss for a moment to gasp for air. It was only for a second but it was long enough for Michael to glance down. The sight made Michael hard with unadulterated lust. Nikita's tight skirt rode up a lot higher to her hips due to their position, giving him a sexy peek of the sheer lingerie she wore underneath.

_There's no escape_,

_I can't wait_

He could feel the smirk on Nikita's lips as she planted another alcohol-laced kiss, sucking and tugging on his lower lip. It felt so good to have her hands splayed across his chest. When she began to trail kisses along his strong jaw, Nikita let a hand drop and brushed her knuckles lightly against the cause of strain in Michael's pants, eliciting a moan from him. Nikita breathed a heavy sigh at the sound, she loved it. She wanted it. She needed it.

She needed _more_.

_I need a hit_,

_Baby, give me it_

Kissing his jaw and neck with a sense of urgency this time, her fingers worked nimbly to open the buttons of his shirt. When she managed to unbutton everything, Nikita spread his shirt wide and ran her hands along the planes of his bare chest, his stomach, and all the way to his back. Dragging her nails along and sending chills down Michael's spine, Nikita lowered her face to his chest and peppered it with wet kisses. A guttural sound rumbled within Michael when Nikita found and closed her lips around his nipple and ran her teeth across it. Placing both his hands tightly on her hips, he gasped and sighed as she sucked and flicked with her tongue.

Michael rasped her name breathlessly. The feel of Nikita's warm breath and her lips on his body was making him so hard it was getting unbearable.

He had to stop her before she drove him over the edge.

_It's dangerous_,

_I'm loving it_

So Michael snaked a hand behind her neck and guided Nikita's bruised lips back to his. His tongue probed her lower lip, demanding entrance. When she allowed passage, he dipped into her wanting mouth as she sighed into him. He ran another hand to her back to find the zipper of the goddamned dress. When he found it, he pulled forcibly, almost ripping it in his hurry.

Yanking the glittering dress down until it pooled around her waist, Michael was temporarily satisfied that Nikita's half-naked upper body was finally exposed to him. And due to their position, he had more access to her neck and her chest. Dragging his lips along the lines of her neck, he scattered kisses here and there. Nikita let out a soft moan when Michael sucked on an erogenous spot above her collarbone. Her fingers curled around his arms as he kissed on the V of her neck, his two-day-old stubble deliciously scratching her soft, smooth skin, sending jolts to her center. Her body agonizingly hungered for him to fill her.

_Too high can't come down_,

_Losing my head_,

As Michael made his downward travel to her chest, Nikita closed her eyes, breathlessly whispering his name. He kissed the swell of skin above the cut of her sheer satin rose-colored bra. Giving attention to her right breast, he slipped a hand under her bra to cup the other, caressing and sweeping a calloused thumb over the hardened bead of tissue. Once. Twice. Nikita let out a whimper and dug her nails onto his shoulder as he took the sensitive tip into his mouth, running his tongue skillfully around it through the thin fabric. The friction and the soft sound of scratching turned Nikita on she didn't know if she'll live through the night if they didn't complete the act.

_Spinning round and round_,

_Do you feel me now?_

Nikita couldn't help but throw her head back as Michael did the same thing to her other breast. She was dizzy and her breathing was hard and fast. Her heart was beating fiercely against her chest. It was so hot. She was so aroused it was insane. This time, it was his turn to smirk against her skin. He pleasured in hearing her pleas and cries to take her. He will…

_With the taste of you lips_,

_I'm on a ride_,

Licking the spot in between her breasts, he felt her shudder and moan. He took this opportunity to reach up and crush his lips against hers again. It was deep, passionate, carnal… yet frantic. Their tongues darted against each other, neither one wanting to relinquish dominance. Her hands ran through his crisp hair and she held onto him as if her life depended on it. He let his hands roam her breasts, stroking and fondling, then massaged her toned midriff, to the span of her back.

_Your toxic tongue slipping under_,

_With a taste of a poison paradise_,

Letting his feel go lower on her body, Nikita groaned and bit Michael's lower lip as his hands were looming dangerously near her aching womanhood. She arched her back, bringing her chest closer to his and pressing the lower half of her body against his hands. The feeling was shamelessly erotic. This assault on her senses was nothing she could ever prepare for.

_I'm addicted to you_,

Smoothing his hands over Nikita's scantily-clad buttocks, Michael felt her dampness penetrating through the lacy cloth. Knowing that it was him that was making Nikita's body respond that way, he got harder than he could ever think was possible. She was wet and yearning for him and his body painfully strained to fulfill her wish.

God, she was going to kill him.

_Don't you know that you're toxic?_

Hooking his hands behind her knees, Michael roughly dragged her across his lap until she was sitting directly on top of him. They both gasped, surprised at the sensation of the contact. His erection was snug and directly under the apex of her thighs. His' hard, hers' wet. Both yearning for a bare feel, the chance to fill each other to the brim. The fire burning deep within them threatened to swallow them whole.

Leering, Nikita ground her hips hard against Michael's, earning a strangled hiss from him. But the sensation was so divine, they could feel it to their tips of their toes. She rested her forehead against his, both out of breath. Their eyes were glassy as they stared at one another for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. But it was all too late. Their lips met for one last time before they lost it again.

_And I love what you do_,

_Don't you know that you're toxic?_

She panted his name as he brought her to newer heights by the second.

_Intoxicate me now_,

_With you lovin' now_,

_I think I'm ready now_,

But what they did or did not do next, no one will ever know. And possibly, not even them.

_Intoxicate me now_

Because their chemically-addled minds were too wasted to let them remember what they did in the bathroom at 40,000 feet above the ground.

In their own little mile-high club.

* * *

><p>This was not good.<p>

Something was wrong.

They didn't know where they were. Not that they were giving that much of a thought about it. In fact, the thought didn't even cross their intoxicated minds.

But the night was definitely longer than usual.

And they were feeling different but they didn't know what it was.

They just wanted each other. They couldn't stop. Like two crazed, hormonal teenagers.

_For tonight_,_  
>It's just the two of us<em>

This lust for each other wasn't normal.

Then again, they didn't consider themselves normal. Not in a long time.

But this desire they have for each other was just too much. And if they weren't first-hand witnesses to this, they wouldn't believe that such an attraction even existed between two people.

They didn't even get to reach the bed.

_Dim the light now_,_  
>Just the two of us<em>

Even before the door clicked to a shut, Michael had Nikita pinned to the wall, ravishing her lips. The sense of being trapped and the control in Michael's hands turned her on. Encircling her arms around his neck, she secured him to her, responding with matching intensity. Their swollen and bruised lips have been quite busy tonight. Their tongues danced again, slipping over and under each other. He gripped her waist, afraid that if he loosened it just a bit, she would disappear from his grasp.

But she won't. Not tonight. Not ever.

He kissed her chin, her jaw, her neck… He heard her take in a sharp breath as he kissed the hollow beneath her ear. Grazing her collar and shoulder lightly, taking in her sweet scent, he let go of her waist in search for the zipper of her dress again. In a small and distant part of his mind, he tried to remember when they got dressed because he distinctly recalled that he got rid of this piece of clothing already… Or maybe that was a dream?

But it didn't really matter. All he wanted right now was the dress to come off. Along with everything else.

Dragging the zipper down, he kissed her again on the mouth. Tasting her, making her want him more…

The dress collected around her stiletto-heeled feet. She stepped out of the pool of fabric and kicked it away. They both smiled for a moment even if their lips haven't broken apart. He weaved his hands through her dark hair, holding her lovingly as she did to him.

_Like how your hands fill me up and down_,_  
>Like how your touch send me off the ground<em>

Even through the fabric of his shirt, Nikita could feel the rapid beating of Michael's heart against her chest. But she needed the feel of his skin on hers. Frantically searching for the buttons of his shirt, Nikita got impatient and just tore down the center, buttons clinking on the polished wooden floor as it fell. She pushed the shirt off his shoulder, and off of him, dropping it to the floor.

He pressed his bare chest against her's, pushing her back to the wall even more. The feeling of their bodies together was thrilling to both of them. It sent jolts of electricity to their centers, making them want to take each other then and there.

_Your body feels like a fantasy_,_  
>This moment's all that I can see<em>

She left his mouth and travelled to his taut chest. His sweet yet spicy, and alcohol-laden, scent was driving her mad. She dragged her nails along his shoulder and arms as she kissed and licked his skin, causing a shiver to run down Michael's spine. God, he was getting harder. His legs trembled at the urge to plunge into her sweet depths.

What he felt wasn't lost to her. She felt him, nudging at her brashly. Hooking her fingers around his belt loop, she pulled him closer to her. They both shivered at the contact.

Michael let his hands roam her body. Squeezing her waist, her hips, running along her back and buttocks, caressing her inner thighs. She took in a sharp breath at the proximity of his hands near her center. He continued to stroke her until he reached the sheer piece of lingerie that covered her core. Pressing his palm at her, she let out a moan. He took this opportunity to capture her mouth, heating all her senses to a boiling point. Running a finger along the length of her opening, he poked and prodded at her through the thin, wet fabric. She yearned for him to do more.

_Hold me close_

Granting her wish, pushing the strip of material aside, he slipped a finger into her. A throaty gasp escaped her bruised lips at the sweet intrusion. He caressed her, feeling her as he let another finger slide into her. Moving it back and forth, her knees buckled but she held on to his strong shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

She removed her lips from his and closed her eyes to surrender at the feel of his fingers. He continued on kissing her shoulder, nibbling and sucking on her neck. Her breathing was hard as his free hand held onto her hips while the other was circling the area of her most sensitive part with his thumb. Pressing the engorged nub lightly, she let out a whimper and bucked her hips at him. Her actions caused him to bite down on her shoulder, his hard-on driving him insane.

He removed his hand on her hip to lift her chin up to him and he kissed her gently, more passionately, taking their time. Withdrawing his other hand, he massaged her stomach, drawing random shapes, anything to calm them down and stop them from completely losing control before the night ran out.

Because this night was all they had. They didn't know if they'd ever be like this again.

_Strip me down_

After relaxing a bit, Nikita's hands drifted towards Michael's pants, unbelting and unbuttoning. Dragging her fingers along with the zipper down, she brushed against his prominent member. The feathery touch sent a shiver through Michael, eliciting a guttural groan from him as he continued kissing her. Freeing him from the restraints of his pants, she let the garment drop to the floor. He broke the kiss to get rid of it, along with his shoes and socks.

Standing in his ash-colored boxer briefs, Nikita couldn't help but let her gaze rove over him. A sheen of sweat covered his body, making things, if possible, just hotter than it already was. She never felt this for anyone else. The feeling that she'd die if he didn't touch her soon enough. Her body burned for him. To have this beautiful Adonis of a man feel her, kiss her, taste her, have his way with her…

This was crazy.

_Hold me tight now_

He reached for her, hooking a hand behind one of her knees and slung it around his waist as he stepped in between her legs. She buried her head into his shoulder as he pushed his hips against her. With one leg around him, he hit her at just the right spot to have her moan sensually into his ear. Pressing and being pressed against the wall, had the movements of their chests constricted, making them take shallow and fast breaths. This heightened every sensation in their being.

Placing her small yet powerful hands on the small of his back, she pulled him closer. Letting him nestle into her further. He hissed while she panted his name as he slowly, instinctively, rocked his hips. She bit her lower lip, the heel of her shoe digging into his leg as she held onto him, wanting more, wanting it faster, harder, and without the barrier of clothes…

_Need you more_

Grabbing her other leg, he let it join the other around his waist. It provided him more access as he ground into her a bit harder. She huffed an inaudible curse as he kissed the skin above her bra. Taking a dusky peak into his mouth, he nipped and let his tongue roll over the hard bud. The friction of the cloth as a result from this, as well as from where he was rubbing her slick nether region, was pushing Nikita to an indescribable ecstasy.

_Want you more_

Taking hold of her backside, he supported her as he continued his undulating thrust. Feeling that she was about to climax, she dug her nails onto Michael's back and bit his earlobe. Letting out a low growl, he immediately stopped what he was doing, halting her journey to the pinnacle of pleasure. He'll tease her, not give her what she wanted. At least, not yet. Taking a step back, he carried Nikita with him.

She didn't weigh much but he staggered at the sudden change in movement. The room around them spun and Nikita's girlish giggle seemed to reverberate everywhere. But when she cupped his face in between her hands and kissed him squarely and hardly on the lips, he focused on what he wanted.

And that was to get them to the bed.

_Feels so right now_

Making their way to the king-sized four-poster bed, he tossed her to the middle of it. Nikita laughed at her impact with the soft yet firm mattress. Delighting in the change of spot, she stretched languidly, threading her hands through her hair, messing it up and creating a dark halo around her. Like an angel of a temptress. Her eyes were unfocused but she watched him with a come-hither expression on her face. Standing at the end of the bed, he let his gaze wander over her body, taking in her beautiful and seductive features. Their eyes met and the spark inside them grew into a roaring flame.

_Spread my wings all into the dawn_,_  
><em>

They may not know what will happen tomorrow, but they were sure of one thing tonight:

She was his. He was hers.

_I'll fly away on a trip to your heart_

Ridding himself of his boxer briefs, though he had some slight difficulty there, he crept to the edge of the bed. He took off her patent black heels slowly, inch by inch. Nikita didn't know that such a thing could ever be sexy and sensual but it was. One by one, he tossed the shoes to the floor. Then he proceeded to plaster ascending kisses alternately on both of her legs. He also ran his hands alongside her. From her shin, to her knee, to the satiny columns of her thighs, until he reached the junction. She let out a soft sigh as he kissed the top of her lacy, rose-hued panties.

Settling his self in between her legs, Michael traveled upward, continuing to trail kisses along Nikita's navel and abdomen. Her bra, though slightly askew, barred his northbound journey. Reaching a hand to snap open the front-closure, he freed her of the garment. Arching her back, her breathing rose faster and she moaned his name when he finally got to feel her breasts without any barrier. She was sweet as he closed around a puckered tip and sucked. Playing and flicking with his tongue as he did so. With the other breast, he ran his palm over it. Covering, kneading, caressing, fondling… When he was finished with one, he switched his actions to the other, treating it with the same affection.

Having enough for now, he crawled upward, mashing his lips against hers in a primal kiss. Their tongues danced again, never tiring after their whole night of assault on each other. She arched up even closer to him as he placed a hand just below her navel, thrumming and drawing circles, sending a tingling sensation to her center.

_Break these chains that keep us apart_,

The sound of waves crashing against the shore line just outside the windows were the only sounds that accompanied the pleasure-filled moans and cries as lovers consummated their feelings for each other throughout the night.

_I'll fly away on a trip to your heart_

He wanted to push her more to the edge, crazy with need. And there was only one way to do that.

Michael moved down to the last piece of fabric that blocked them from becoming one. Guiding his hands along her legs, he propped them up next to his sides. Nuzzling in between her thighs, he kissed her damp center through the flimsy lingerie. She rasped when he prodded his tongue along the center of the garment, her core.

He hooked his fingers around the thin band of her panties and tugged it down. But in his haste to rid her of it, the delicate material snapped. In a pause of a second, the fate of the destroyed undergarment didn't cross their minds; all they thought about was that, with their next move, there was no going back.

But weren't they already past that?

_I'll fly away on a trip to your heart_

Tossing the ripped cloth to the floor, he kissed her pouting nether lips. Running his nimble tongue up and down the surface of her moist opening, she gripped the bed sheets until her knuckles turned white. Parting her folds, he grazed his teeth on the sensitive ball of nerves and sucked on it until stars erupted in front of Nikita's glassy brown eyes. She didn't know how much she could take of it before she reached her end. But Michael continued on. Plunging into her center, she cried his name and thrashed against him.

She was the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

So he became greedy, wanting more.

_Trip to your lips_,_  
>Trip to your tongue<em>

Bringing his hands to her inner thighs, he pushed at them, spreading her legs wider and exposing more of her to him. She was getting wetter by the second. Delving deeper into her inner parts, he took in all of what he could. Faster, Harder. He could do this all night. But she couldn't. With her heels of her feet running along the curve of his spine, Nikita could feel her body nearing her erotic nirvana, any more and she'd be long gone.

Then Michael stopped. He withdrew his tongue from her the moment he felt the slightest chance of her body contracting. Closing his eyes, breathing hard, he controlled, with all his might, from climaxing himself. _Not yet_. But he had a bigger problem in resisting the urge to drive his hard, throbbing member into her when she pulled his face to hers to deliver an open and lewd kiss.

_Trip to your kiss_

In some far place in her mind, it occurred to her that he was teasing her. But her carnal needs overpowered every thought in her head.

_Trip to your head_,_  
>Trip to your chest<em>

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she flipped them over. She paid him in favor of the kisses he gave her. She grazed his neck and chest. Sucking on the skin of his chest, she bit down on this as she dragged her nails across his flat, hardened nipples. Angry red marks streaked along from where he nails left. Kissing her way lower until she reached his navel, she suddenly sat up on her heels.

She looked at him, her eyes wild with pure lust that it was taking over her whole being. Scooting down until she was directly above his manhood, she chewed on her lower lip as she watched him. Figuring out what she was about to do, Michael tried to get up but Nikita placed a hand squarely on his chest and pushed him back. She lowered her self on him until his tip touched her wet opening. Smiling devilishly, she only let him skim through her slick folds. He groaned her name warningly, wanting her to just take him instead of teasing him.

_Trip to your skin_

The sound of her name was all she needed, ever so slowly, she let him in deeper. But until he was only halfway into her, she suddenly slammed into him in one fluid motion, smiling lasciviously as she did so. The action caught him off-guard and made him buck into her, plunging deeper.

_Trip to your sin_

She threw her head back as they both moaned in ecstasy from the feel of each other. The feeling of finally being one. They were perfect, like two pieces of a puzzle.

It took a few seconds before Nikita got her composure back, and then she began to rock her hips. In a circular motion at first, and then up and down the length of his member. Placing both his hands on her hips to guide her, Michael watched her as she closed her eyes and her jaw slackened at the sensation of him filling her. With the moonlight streaming in through the windows, the sweat that covered her body made her glow like some ethereal goddess.

The faster and harder she went, the shallower their breathings became, their sounds of pleasure were mixed with gasps for air. Watching her lose control at the exhilarating thrill, flushed and glistening, he almost peaked. He felt that she was almost there too. A trickle of her essence traveled along his already-slick shaft. Propping against an elbow, he reached out and snaked a hand behind her neck to pull her closer and deliver a kiss.

_Trip to your breath_

Just as their lips touched, Michael rolled them both over, thrusting deep and hard into her just as her back touched the mattress. She moaned into him, sliding her tongue into his mouth. Covering her breasts with his hands, he massaged and chafed the hardened bud. But he slowed things down, getting her ready for an experience of ecstasy that she'd never forget. Moving in and out of her at a maddeningly slow pace, he savored at the feeling of her wet and inviting opening wrapping around him with each plunge and holding onto him every time he pulled out, not wanting to be separated. It sent the two of them teetering.

Burying their faces into each other's shoulder, he suddenly changed the pace and rhythm. Faster and harder he drove into her, changing the angles of his entry in search of the spot that would make her fall apart. Though she was tight, making every push hard, he was stronger. On and on, faster, harder and deeper he went, the moved as one until they were both on the brink of ecstasy.

_Trip to your touch_

Holding on to the last threads of his own imminent release, he grabbed her hips and lifted it roughly to meet his thrust that reached all the way to her soul, shaking her to the core. It set off a chain reaction that gave her an intense, heavenly orgasm that rocked her body, making her cry with pleasure. With the walls of her womanhood clenching around him, taking his breath away, he submitted and shuddered at his release. He braced his hands on the bed as the blissful sensations engulfed and rippled through his entire being, bringing him to an all-time high. His final moans combined with hers, pierced through the night as wave after wave of heaven ran through them.

After all those times of holding back, they've finally let go.

_Trip to your heart_

Gasping for their breaths, Michael gently rolled them over and they stayed like that for a while... Joined. Connected. One. Surrendering everything they had to each other. Sharing warmth. Body and soul entwined in an unbreakable hold.

If only time stood still…

After what seemed like an eternity, their bodies slowly calmed down. With her head resting on his chest, she could feel his breathing and hear his heartbeat in rhythm with hers.

Everything was perfect. Just like they should be.

_Spread my wings all into the dawn_

"Is this a dream?" she said softly. Nestling her head on the crook of his neck, she breathed warmly against his skin.

He brought a hand up to stroke the length of her bare back. A small smile crept up to his lips, "Then it's one hell of a dream."

Nikita smiled and planted a gentle kiss just below the hollow of Michael's ear. She sighed, "Promise me something."

"Anything," he assured her.

"If this isn't a dream," she propped up against his chest and gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Her long, tousled hair formed a dark curtain around their faces as she leaned in closer, "when I open my eyes, you'll be there."

Michael gazed back at her. She truly was beautiful beyond compare. He cupped her face and closed the gap to kiss her tenderly on the lips, "I will be."

_Break these chains that keep us apart_

Reaching for the silky duvet, he threw it over them as he slowly, however reluctantly, withdrew from her inner warmth. They both felt some sense of emptiness at that, but it quickly passed. Pulling her close to him, he kissed her forehead. Breathing deeply, they relaxed as fatigue and sleepiness took over. They gladly succumbed to it as they were already in bliss. Sated, satisfied, and content with each other.

For this night, it will always be theirs.

_I'll fly away on a trip to your heart_

But as they were happily lulled to sleep, the world, unfortunately, continued on.

And surely, soon enough, the Pacific sun slowly peeked through the East; its early morning rays glinted off from a gold ring on Nikita's hand.

* * *

><p>"<em>Spread your arms and your legs.<em>"

"_Just like old times, huh_?" – 1x01

* * *

><p><strong>And that's that!<strong>

**How was it? How was my first try at a sexy (if you'd count it as sexy, that is) fic?  
><strong>

**Click the Review button and let me know! :)**

**Oh, the first song was Toxic and the second song was Trip To Your Heart. Both by Britney Spears (seems that I keep using her songs. Really don't know why. And no, she's not my fave artist. ;P). **

**And if it's okay, I'll just want to ask a favor from everyone: just be a bit patient. The last chapter might take a bit longer before I get to post it because I'm going to be pretty busy these coming days. But I swear, I'll try to finish the next chapter ASAP! **

**So thank you for reading! And don't forget to review! Who knows, maybe I might get a hell lot of inspiration to finish it faster! Haha! But thank you again! :)**

** xx Dani**


	3. Chapter 3: Frailty

**Hey hey!**

**Well, firstly, I just wanna say how _sorry_ I am for the late update! The past few weeks have just been hectic. Still is, but whatever. But as promised, here is the next chapter! Better late than never, right? Haha!**

**So if you're reading this, it means that my previous chapter didn't scare you away and you _still_ want to know what's gonna happen next… And for that, I am very much grateful. Thank you so much for reading! And for those who reviewed, you people are just _the _best! Thank you soooo much! Sending my Mikita love to y'all!**

**And, I just wanna say something about the second chapter – those who've reviewed probably know this already because I told them about this in my reply. Haha – but I _cannot _believe I wrote something like that. Honestly! I mean, I like reading smut as much as the next person, but I just realized lately how lemony and detailed and vivid the whole thing was. So if you have a pretty active imagination – which, I'm sure you all do – well, umm, ahem… Hahaha! Oh well, it's done. That's why the reviews of last chapter helped me so much (I was actually pretty shocked when you all wrote that the whole thing didn't suck). XD**

**Okay! Moving on… I actually have some good news about this fic! This is _NOT_ going to be the last chapter, contrary to what I wrote in the A/N in the previous chapters. I added a few things here that turned out to be too long so I decided to make it into a whole different chapter instead. So, the scenes I had planned to be written here got transferred to the next chap and so on… So, apparently, there'll be 2 more chapters after this one. ;)**

**So go read now! And enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"<em>You know, you play this game, things are gonna get a little bit messy<em>."

"_Things are already messy, Michael_." – 1x13

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3: Frailty<span>

_4:23 A.M._

The video feed he was reviewing showed a waiter and a young man huddled over a tray of champagne. With a click of a mouse button, he zoomed in on their hands. The waiter was opening capsules containing a white powdery substance over the drinks while the other person was popping different-colored pills into the same glasses. The champagne fizzled at the contact of the foreign substances but then subsided back to its clear, golden color, seconds later, like nothing happened.

The young man laughed and nodded at the waiter.

The person watching knew what the pills were without even blinking an eye. It was the white powder he was concerned about. Rewinding the video feed to a couple of minutes back, he got to know what it was. This was not good.

Picking up his phone, he dialed a number but no one answered.

Calling again, trying another number but still, nothing.

After sending a text message to both numbers, he leaned back on his chair and sighed. It was too late anyway – 3 _hours_ late. The video he was watching registered 10:17 PM, Las Vegas time. It would be around 1:30 AM there now.

He should have checked on them sooner.

Well, it's not like the Girls of Amsterdam would let him.

Nevertheless, whatever could have happened to them, probably already did. It's not like he could change anything now.

He just hopes that the blowback of everything would be worth it.

Shaking his head, he couldn't believe that the bane of Division's best agents would actually be a college fraternity prank.

He fast forwarded to the next scene where the waiter was bringing that tray of dirty champagne around the dance floor. He stared at the screen as Nikita picked up two flutes. The waiter almost looked like he was going to warn her not to drink it but probably lost his nerve when she flashed him a killer smile. Poor guy didn't see that coming. Holding that captivating smile, she held up the other glass to Michael.

_Damn, Nikki_, he thought, somewhat jokingly, _none of this wouldn't have happened if you weren't so freaking hot._

"Didn't Amanda ever teach you two not to take drinks that weren't yours?" he mumbled as watched the pair drank the liquid sin.

He clicked Pause. Selecting certain parts of the video feed, he breathed deeply as he pressed the Delete key.

On to the next one.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>The crunch of another Red Bull can being thrown into the trash bin resonated around Operations. Some startled agents peeked discreetly at the person causing all the noise. But Division's resident IT was bent intently over a computer to notice their prying eyes.<p>

Seymour Birkhoff didn't like losing his sleep.

And he didn't like putting his ass on the line even more.

… But the things he does for the people he cares about.

Jabbing a finger on the Enter button to save the last (_finally_!) spliced video of the moment, he closed his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He needed a well-deserved break. Checking his watch, it was 2:03 PM now. Oh Holy Night, he had been working non-stop for the past 19 hours.

But he wasn't finished yet. He still had to save the day.

Well, at least, Mikey and Nikki's day.

Because boy, those two were in some serious shit.

Possibly their worst ever.

Because for one thing, Birkhoff was pretty sure that this was far worse than what happened in St. Petersburg.

It was never told but no one except him, Percy and Amanda knew that Nikita's room was bugged at that time. It was simply for formality purposes at first, given that it was her first overseas mission alone. Well, that is, until Michael insisted that he'd be sent over there to be her date because '_no target would buy that someone like Nikita was alone at a black tie event_'.After that little stint, the bug became a way to eavesdrop on the two. Birkhoff didn't like it. But then he was ordered to listen in on the two's conversation and give Percy and Amanda a copy of the recording the next morning for evaluation.

Birkhoff never said this to Michael and Nikita but he actually knew and heard everything that went down over there.

Amanda and Percy didn't though. All thanks to him.

Birkhoff knew the moment he heard them talking about _honey traps_ that he was done for. And that night marked the first of many where he'd spend it alone in Operations or in his private computer lab, busy manipulating and splicing together sound clips from previous missions to make decent, believable and presentable conversations – and videos sometimes – between the two and then deleting the real ones.

It was hard and tedious work, but someone had to do it.

He had to admit though, from all the personal information he had to sift through, the thing about Michael's family shocked him most. And he was also a bit irked by it. There he was, saving them from cancellation, and Michael never bothered to open up to him about something like _that_. He'd rather talk about it with Nikita, whom Michael had known far shorter than he knew him.

Well, what can he say? The girl had the guy by the balls. No pun.

And so, Birkhoff had designated himself as their silent guardian angel – though he thought that _angel_ was too sissy a term for him. The unsung hero that cut, pasted, and deleted compromising recorded conversations and video feeds.

And what did he get as gratitude? _Nada_.

Just more work.

But if he didn't care enough to look out for those two, they'd probably already each have a bullet with their names on it a long time ago. Call it sentimental or whatever but Birkhoff didn't want to see them get hurt or cancelled. Not when he finally had some _real_ people he could call 'friends'.

But with all the pertinent dirt he had to secretly and permanently delete from Division's files, he's a bit surprised that Percy or Amanda hasn't gotten a whiff of Michael and Nikita's budding relationship. With their eagle eyes and such. Or at least he hopes so, for their sakes. Because the two may be Division's "_it_" agents, but they were actually pretty sloppy at keeping their attraction for each other on the down-low. You could practically smell the pheromones in the air whenever the two were in the room.

Then again, maybe he and Shadownet were just _that good_.

Grabbing his cellphone again for the nth time that day, he stood up. Turning in place to face the agents inside the room, Birkhoff suddenly announced, "Okay, everybody, get out!"

The other agents looked up at him, surprised and unsure if they heard correctly.

"_Are you all deaf_?" He roared. The caffeine in his system and the lack of sleep was making him as short-tempered as ever. And the sound of other people was getting on his last nerves. Not to mention that he was tense as he still had yet to contact Michael and Nikita before someone asked where they were. But he also silently thanked his lucky stars that Percy was still in London and The Dragon Queen was out terrorizing the new recruits, "I said, _out_! Move! Up and out of your seats!"

Begrudgingly, the agents shuffled out of Operations. Sending and sharing confused looks towards each other. The only time they were all sent out was when extremely sensitive information requiring top level access was being handled. And that usually meant Percy or Michael was also present. But neither one was available so they were all puzzled by that.

They just didn't know.

When Operations was finally clear of all personnel, Birkhoff dialed the number he'd been calling all day.

_Ring_… _ring… ring… ring…_

"Come on, Mikey, pick up," Birkhoff wished while opening a new window on the overhead computer screen. Two red dots blinked right back at him. Michael and Nikita were still at the hotel room. Doing God-knows-what.

Well, actually he had a pretty good idea what they were doing but he'd rather not think about it.

_Ring… ring… ring…_

Birkhoff was pacing around the room in frustration. Calling Michael was getting useless because he wasn't picking up. And texting him would be even more hopeless. Why, for God's sake, did Nikki have to leave her phone back in their hotel room in Vegas?

What was the point in having state-of-the-art technology when it'll just be left unattended?

Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers…

But oh, what he wouldn't pay to see their faces live when he tells them about what happened last night.

_Ring… ring… ring… ri-_

"Hello?" a gruff and somewhat sleepy voice answered.

"Mikey!" Birkhoff exclaimed, relieved. "Oh God, _finally_! I've been calling –"

"_Birkhoff, do you have any idea what time it is_?" he growled menacingly through the earpiece.

Ah, Mikey, always so touchy.

"Okay, one: yes, I do know. It's around 6 AM there but I don't care," Birkhoff retorted. "Two: that's a harsh tone you're using to someone who'd been up all night just to save you're sorry butts from cancellation. And three: if you're like that after getting laid, I'd hate to be Nikki right now."

"_What_?"

Birkhoff paused. Then he blinked, remembering the effects, "You don't know anything, do you?"

"Know _what_, Birkhoff? You just woke me up and I have a headache right now. I don't have time for your nonsense! _Where _–"

Birkhoff was about to reply when he heard, on the other side of the phone, a questioning voice ask, "_Michael_?"

The familiar voice sounded like the owner just started to come around. Oh, this was going to be like hell for her.

But it should get interesting.

"_Nikita_?" he heard Michael incredulously ask, away from the phone. Birkhoff could hardly contain a self-satisfied smirk as he tried to imagine the scene occurring in a hotel room a million miles away from where he was. "_What the hell are _you _doing here_?"

"_I should be asking you the same question._" She said. Birkhoff heard a rustle of sheets and something plunking on what seemed to be a hard surface, "_What the - where is _here _exactly_?"

"_I don't know_." A second after hearing another faint crackling sound, Michael's voice filtered in through the earpiece, "Birkhoff, what the hell_ happened_? _Where _are _we_?"

He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Well, good morning to you too, Mikey."

"_Birkhoff," _Michael warned.

"Okay, okay, God, aren't you Mr. Sunshine?" Birkhoff told him, rolling his eyes. "Put me on loudspeaker so I can talk to Nikki too."

There was a rushing sound before he heard Nikita's voice, though a bit different and distant, "Talk, Nerd."

"What's the last you both remember?" he asked them.

"Flashes." Michael told him. Birkhoff could only imagine Michael's face as he tried to concentrate and remember, while probably having the world's most painful headache. Or hangover, for want of a better term. He heard a sigh, "Operation Tower, the hotel room, ordering a scotch at the bar... Some person wanting Nikita to dance with him –"

_Oh, great_, Birkhoff thought, _dude's having an almighty hangover and he _still _remembers a random guy asking Nikki to dance. Talk about messed up._

"I remember lights," he heard Nikita chime in, her voice sounding a bit strained, "the club… s-something about roulette… and d-diamonds and… airplanes? _God_, _what did we do last night_?"

_What _didn't _you do? _Birkhoff thought. He couldn't help but realize that Nikita seemed to have a pretty good whacked-out memory given what she was on last night. Kinda surprising, if you ask him. Though he'd never say _that _out loud.

"Well, I'll tell you this though," Birkhoff said to them, taking a seat on a swivel chair and opening another can of Red Bull, "you two are in _so_ much trouble even Jesus couldn't save you."

"What the hell are you _talking_ about?" Michael asked, exasperatedly.

"Let's start with this," Birkhoff took a swig, enjoying the taste of caffeine, "you weren't just drunk last night."

"What do you mean?" Nikita said, her voice sounding a bit more alert, yet different. And if he wasn't mistaken, there seemed to be a touch of worry in her voice.

And she had every reason to be. But Birkhoff was actually pretty surprised that all they're having is a massive hangover. Especially Nikita, given her history. At least, he'd like to think she's okay. She sounded a bit different but maybe that was just her morning voice. But still, it's a miracle none of them landed in the hospital last night. With that much contradicting chemicals in their systems, things could've gone way worse.

_But_ _oh man_, he thought for a second, _that was some crazy night they had_.

All thanks to the innumerable glasses of alcohol they drank.

And the colorless, tasteless, odorless yet wild effects of Ecstasy and Ketamine that laced their glasses of champagne.

"You both were also high."

"_What_?"

"Trust me, that's just the tip of the iceberg," Birkhoff snorted, imagining their shocked faces – especially Michael's – in his mind. "And I hope you're sitting down before I tell you the next part. Because let me just say, you're both lucky you're talking to me and not to Jesus."

* * *

><p>There was silence as the phone call ended.<p>

Michael couldn't bear to look at Nikita for some reason. After he put his cellphone on loudspeaker, he tossed it to the middle of the bed and returned to his previous spot, his back towards to her. He stared absently at the gold ring on his right hand, not acknowledging how it appeared there and what it meant.

He couldn't believe it. He's never done something so reckless before and not remember about it. Sitting at the foot of the bed and placing his face in his hands, he tried to remember on his own what happened last night based on what Birkhoff told them. But he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. It was all just a blur. And all his thinking was making his headache get worse. It was like someone had just pistol-whipped his head into oblivion.

A soft and salty breeze blew in through the window and made him shiver. He looked down on his body and saw that he was only actually covered by the duvet tangled around his waist. He wasn't even going to try to think why or how he ended up like that. Maybe he will once he gets a cup of coffee.

But right now, he was going to change. If only his head would just give him the chance and stop hurting even for just a second.

Nikita knew something was wrong the moment she woke up.

She knew she was not feeling well.

But she knew this feeling. It was deadly familiar but she wasn't entirely sure. But still, she felt her heart drop the moment she confirmed the cause. It even took all of her strength to maintain her voice during the phone call.

Nikita just closed her eyes shut because the room wouldn't stop spinning and her head felt like it was being squeezed in all directions. Her stomach was cramping. And she was cold and shivering too. Pulling the duvet closer to her sitting form, in a small part of her mind, she realized that she wasn't wearing anything. And that her body was a bit sore.

"So let me get this straight," she heard Michael say. His voice seemed to reverberate around the room, like it was in surround sound. And it was adding to her headache, "we're in _Nadi?"_

It took a second before Nikita processed what he was talking about. She tried to remember everything Birkhoff just told them, but it was hard. She was getting nauseas by the second. But, she forced a whisper, "Fiji. Yeah."

Another wave of nausea rolled in. She could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Gritting her teeth, she buried her face in her hands. This was bad. _No, _she pleaded silently, _not withdrawal_.She can't bear to go through that again.

"_You still have to be careful though, Nikita. You may be free of the junk you were hooked on,_" Amanda's voice flitted through her mind, back to one of their sessions when she was a recruit, "_But an addict will always have a bigger chance at a relapse when posed with the dangers of the outside world._"

It's been almost three years since she last felt this. This hunger that took hold of her whole being.

And it was slowly waking the slumbering dark side of her, a facet of her life in which she had worked so hard to leave.

But it was gaining strength again. And she was too weak right now. Too weak to fight. It would be so easy to go back. Be tempted back into its anesthetic bliss. To be sucked in to its psychedelic high. Forget everything…

She was restless inside.

Her body needed more.

She can't go through this withdrawal. Not again.

There would be just so much pain, hurt, agony she would have to endure…

The simplest way was to go back.

Her body was begging.

She needed another hit of Ketamine.

She loosened her grasp on the sheets. There had to be some K on this island somewhere. There just had to be…

No matter what it takes, she was going to find it.

Untangling her long legs from the sheets, she moved to stand up. But she couldn't. She suddenly couldn't feel the lower half of her body. It was getting worse. She needed to have her next hit fast.

… _No_!

A more rational side of her screamed. It gripped her attention. It's also almost three years since she's been sober.

She's worked so hard to stay clean. She can't give up that easily. Not again.

She can fight this. She had to.

But when the bed gave a small bounce as Michael stood up from it, Nikita almost cried with pain. She could feel pins and needles poking her skin all around. It hurt. She clutched the duvet so hard, it was turning her knuckles white. Gasping for air, she tried to calm her self in the midst of everything. She tried to concentrate on something else, divert her attention and focus. She could hear Michael putting on clothes, but the sound was almost amplified to ten times than normal. And the room still continued to revolve around her.

_It was hell_.

But Michael didn't see her pain. He had his back towards Nikita, dressing absentmindedly, lost in his own thoughts.

And his own head was killing him.

"Before that we were in Vegas." He recalled out loud what Birkhoff told them, pulling on his pants. He never had a hangover or gotten high before so this was all new to him. But also because of that, he was spared by most of its effects except for the splitting headache, some slight fatigue and the fuzziness of what happened the night before. Running through information calmed him down usually, "We got drunk _and _high, we gambled and won $1.5 million –"

"So Birkhoff says," he heard Nikita say hoarsely. Michael didn't want to believe it at first too. But looking around, there were numerous bundles of $100 bills strewn across the polished wooden floor along with discarded clothes.

Deciding to ignore that proven fact and the sudden realization of what else may have happened to cause them to be naked, he continued on while searching for his shirt, "And then we went to Cartier, then to the airport where we bribed _and _held a pilot at gunpoint. And we hijacked a Citation –"

"A Cessna Citation X –" she informed him, weakly. She was directing her concentration on the details of everything to draw away her focus on what was happening to her body.

"_I don't care, Nikita_!" He snapped, picking up his creased shirt from the floor near the door. He was starting to get annoyed at her interruptions. Holding his shirt in one hand, he sighed as he stared intently at the door trying to calm down. A gold glint caught his attention and he raised his right hand lazily to stare at the cause. Quickly realizing what the ring was, his breath got caught in his throat. No, this was not true. Maybe he was just imagining things. That must be it. It must be the drugs…

But a small part of him knew that the ring and everything else was real. That's why he was so mad and frustrated at everything. How something like drugs got the best of him, how he lost control, how things are so screwed up, how he couldn't even remember the last few hours… just _everything_. He continued, his voice surprisingly even despite the pent up anger, "We hijacked a _plane_ and flew to Fiji?"

Nikita was silent for a few seconds. He heard her sigh deeply before she said softly, "We also got married. By Elvis."

She didn't have to remind him.

"Oh how could I not kno–" he roared, turning to face her. But his argument died in his throat when he saw her – hunched over, hands gripped tightly, face sallow, her eyes were squeezed shut and had dark semi-circles underneath, labored breathing, beads of sweat forming along her hairline. She was in pain.

"_Nikita_?" he asked, closing the gap in between them in a few quick strides. He sat down next to her on the bed and felt her forehead with the back of his hand, while the other checked her pulse. His headache and all other emotions flew out the window except for worry and concern when she yelped and flinched at the contact of his hands on her skin.

"Nikita, what is it?" he asked her. Her skin was cold and clammy. Her pulse was palpitating. And she just kept her eyes closed shut. She looked so small and vulnerable as he pulled her closer to him. It was like she wasn't the same woman. He lost focus for a moment as he held her, not knowing why she was acting like this.

He tried to think. She wasn't poisoned, was she? Because he was relatively sure that Ecstasy didn't cause this. So all that was left were alcohol and –

Ketamine.

Michael wanted to hit something. The hangover was messing him up. He should have remembered this sooner! Nikita was addicted to Ketamine before. Her body was reacting because she was going through withdrawal.

_Shit_.

"Nikita," he said to her quickly, brushing away hair that plastered on her sweat-glistened face, "I have to get you back to Division. You need to go through detox in Medical. Amanda will help you."

At the sound of the name of Division's resident psychiatrist, Nikita struggled free from Michael's arms. She opened her eyes, ignoring the spinning surroundings that were making her tear up. Standing up, the duvet twisted around her body, she stumbled until she hit the solid wall. She faced him, fear passing through her expression, and whispered, "_No_."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Grabbing a maroon towel bathrobe from the closet, he handed it to her. Sensing her difficulty with the simple task, Michael helped her change, firmly ignoring the sight of her bare body. He told her, "Nikita, this isn't something you can control. If you're concerned that Amanda will ask what happened, don't be. I'll be the one to give her the excuse. We _have_ to go back to Division."

After tying the robe in place, she placed both her shaky hands on his bare chest and pushed at him feebly, ignoring the jolts of pain. When he didn't move, she looked up to him. She was pleading but what he also saw in her eyes was something he had not seen in her for a long time. The edgy, restless, yet chilling glint in her eyes she had when she was rescued from death row. Disconcerted for a moment, he took an instinctive step back to give her space but Nikita took this chance to run to the door. Well, she would've ran if she didn't shuffle so much and her body too weak and sore and everything around her was blurring and splitting into two.

But before she got anywhere near the door, or at least, taking 3 steps away from him, Michael's hand clasped tightly around her wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

She tugged but it was no use. She was too weak and her withdrawal symptoms were getting worse. Her body was reacting to the Ketamine and alcohol – the two things, she knew, that should never be mixed in her case. Ketamine's effects were different with each person. But combined with alcohol, the two substances always gave Nikita the worst morning-afters. That's why during her druggie days, she was rarely sober. Because she did almost anything to have her next fix before the effects started to wear off – even when she was in prison. It was hard but she was cunning enough to get pass the security and get high even behind bars. It was also the reason why she was mostly intoxicated for about 5 years of her life. 5 years that she could never get back and will always regret.

That's why she had to fight this.

Because now, she knew better. Things never ended well whenever she had drugs in her system. So she had to try to focus on flushing the drugs out of her body before she got to Division, even if it meant enduring intense pain. She told Michael, "T-to find a s-sauna."

"_What_?" Michael demanded. His eyebrows knitted together as he searched her eyes. He was frustrated at her for being as stubborn as hell. Even through withdrawal, she just wouldn't give in. Didn't she see that she was getting worse by the minute? Didn't she see that Division had all the right medications to help her through this painlessly? Didn't she see that she was making him sick with worry? He said, trying to reason with her, "You need Division, Nikita. Birkhoff got us a direct flight that leaves in less than an hour!"

"_Y-you go_!" Nikita told him, finally pulling her hand free. He didn't understand. Taking a wobbly step back, she said a bit breathlessly, her words slurring, "I am n-not setting foot into Division w-with drugs and a-alcohol in m-me."

"Nikita, what ar–"

"Because unlike y-you, Michael, I've b-been through Amanda's rehab s-sessions," She swallowed unsteadily, trying to repress a specific memory of those times. Her lower lip trembled, "and it's m-more than just sh-shots of methadone an-and i-ibogaine. S-she'll take a c-crowbar to m-my subconscious."

Even in her unstable state, Nikita still had the strength to think about protecting Michael. She knew the moment ibogaine would be in her system, she'd have no control over what she would say and nothing would stop Amanda from probing her to spill her darkest secrets. And she recently had acquired just too many secrets that she can never tell.

At the top of that list, she feared that she'd confess to the happenings of last night.

But what Nikita didn't really want was to admit her love for Michael, validating Amanda's growing suspicion of it.

And Nikita can't have that. She'd rather endure so much pain now from withdrawal than put Michael in harm's way.

That's why she had to do this on her own.

Michael was silent but he was watching her closely. He never had the time to observe any of Amanda's rehab sessions before but he's heard rumors that it was rough. Seeing Nikita, the one he always considered as fearless, be scared of it, made him realize that it may be worse than he might think. He mentally noted that he just might have to visit one of these 'sessions' when they got back.

"Nikita, I'll help you through this," he tried to reason again, more gently this time. Till now, he never had to deal with a person going through withdrawal. Drugged, yes. But it was only if he was observing a potential recruit, or taking out a target. Withdrawal was a new territory to him. That's why he didn't know what to do. He couldn't bear it. No one should ever go through the pain of something like this, "I'll be with you in Division the whole time."

Taking another step back, Nikita shook her head. A shudder ran through her body, sending goosebumps all around. Her whole abdomen was cramping doubly painfully than before. Even her breathing was more ragged now. She whispered harshly, "_N-no_."

With the room spinning with every step she took, she staggered as she made for the door.

"Nikita –"

"_L-leave me alone_!"

But everything proved too much for her body. She never got to reach the door as everything around her grew dark.

* * *

><p>"<em>Michael, you have no idea how much pain I can take<em>." – 1x03

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's all for now!<strong>

**So how did you like this chapter? Leave a Review, let me know! It's always welcomed and appreciated! :]**

**Can you finally piece together what happened at the end of Chapter 1? Hahaha! For those who said they knew what was going on, was your hunch validated? And for those who were confused, is it clear now? (If it's still not, let me know!) :}**

**And Birkhoff got to make an appearance! Personally, I've always thought that he did something like this – deleting compromising recordings and stuff to save Mikita. Haha! **

**Hmm… So, yeah, I've actually written some parts of the upcoming chapters beforehand so maybe I'll get to post it sooner. **

**Anyway, thank you all for the patience, and for taking time to read! And review! :]**

**Nikita Season 2 is almost here! E-X-C-I-T-I-N-G! September 23 is gonna be EPIC!**

**xx Dani**


	4. Chapter 4: Tortured Reluctance

**Heyyyy!**

**Weee~ it's update time! Uhh, I actually finished this like, a week ago and totally forgot to post it! Haha! Sorry for that! I've been so busy and my head's such a complete mess right now.**

**Oh, and thank you so much for everything! The feedback is just so wonderful and overwhelming, it makes me grin like an idiot all day. Thank you thank you thank you so much! You all should get a trophy or something! :]**

**Okay, one last burst in my A/N! Season 2 is here! OMFG! Isn't it so bad ass? Mikita practically runs my Fridays (well, actually, it's Saturdays here because of different time zones. XD). Just love it!... All types of awesomeness in one show! And I am totally in love with Birkhoff right now! Haha! The Mikita-Birkhoff tandem is just so freaking funny and amazing, it's perfect! And don't even get me started on Owen…**

**Ahem… Enough of that. So here we go with the update! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"<em>Love over duty, huh<em>?"

"_Who wouldn't make the choice_?"

"_I know someone._" – 1x13

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4: Tortured Reluctance<span>

"We'll talk about that when I get back tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"How is she?"

"She's resting. Her fever seems to have gone down already."

"Good. When she wakes up and seems stable, you two can fly back to Division later. She can continue recuperating there. I'll arrange her debriefing, and possibly her new assignment, the day after next."

"Thank you, sir."

_Click._

Michael placed his cellphone back in the heatproof container situated next to him. He felt a bit satisfied, managing to convince Percy that Nikita had come down with some flu and buying them some extra time. He wiped away with the back of his hand a bead of sweat that loomed above his right eye. Tugging on the collar of the towel bathrobe, opening it a bit wider, he sighed.

God, it was _hot_.

Well, it should be expected since he _was_ in a sauna.

The figure whose head was resting on his lap stirred, causing him to slightly tense up. But after a few strained seconds, she didn't show any other signs of regaining consciousness.

He relaxed a bit. His heart returned to its natural rhythm again. Everytime Nikita made the slightest movements, his heart seemed to just stop beating, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, edgy in anticipation.

It's been like that for the past 2 hours.

Michael tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Even though she was unconscious, she looked monumentally better. Her skin wasn't sallow, cold and clammy anymore. She breathed in and out more steadily now. And her pulse thrummed evenly under his fingers.

Grabbing the tiny empty vial from his bathrobe's pocket, he rolled it between his fingers. Raising it to his eye level, he read the silver letters printed on the label: _methadone hydrochloride_

Placing the vial back in his pocket, he gazed at Nikita. He figured that it was a good thing that the drug keeps her knocked out throughout the whole withdrawal process, saving her from the pain. She was still going through withdrawal though, but it was already nearing the end. Or so the doctor said. He was told that the drug's sedative effects would slowly wear off along with the withdrawal symptoms after the first hour.

All he really needed to know was that she was going to be okay.

Michael leaned his head against the lilac-painted concrete walls and exhaled deeply. He can't believe how much worry one woman can elicit from him. He didn't even know he had _that_ much worry in him.

But he'd like to think that, if it was any other agent or recruit, he'd still be concerned about their welfare just as he is now. And he'd have done the same to get them better, just like what he was doing now – going through detox via sauna with the affected person. It was in his nature to care and look out for them. Someone had to. It was his mantra. He'd like to think that he'd be fair and treat them all the same.

He could rationalize his actions for the next decade for all he cared but he'd know it still wouldn't matter.

He could _never_ treat every agent the same way he was taking care of Nikita now.

Because for one thing, he wouldn't let just _any_ agent rest their head on his lap.

But personally, Nikita had that privilege.

That's why everything was so messed up.

He couldn't even get mad at her for what happened last night. It was _his _decision to stay and have a drink with her. It just so happened that their next drinks were laced with drugs. It wasn't her fault. It was purely fate playing a dirty trick on their twisted relationship. If he really wanted to, he could blame it on fate but, where would that go?

Besides, alcohol only loosens people's inhibitions. Which meant that his actions last night were innate; parts of him that were only tucked away, locked up, or restrained due to circumstances. The alcohol only brought those feelings to the surface and the drugs gave him a chance and reckless courage to act on it.

A lot of things happened last night that he couldn't believe that it had the possibility of being concocted in his head. But one of their incidents stuck out to him most. Placing his right hand on Nikita's shoulder, he gazed at the simple gold ring on his finger.

He didn't know for sure but _maybe_ in his subconscious he did want to be married again, if he had the chance. Waking up, to have that feeling and knowledge that someone was bound to another because of love. He never really deliberately thought about marriage after Elizabeth's death given that he was then recruited into Division and revenge had preoccupied his mind for some time. But after meeting Nikita, he wasn't sure anymore. He couldn't account for his subconscious.

But he did know Nikita wanted to get married, if their situations were different and everything she wanted was still possible. She told him that a long time ago.

And so this is where their problems begin.

After last night, there was no chance of ever going back. Not that they ever did. They may not have said anything – or at least, for the most part, anything they can significantly remember – but their actions spoke tidal waves of what they really felt for each other.

Michael exhaled deeply, wishing he still had his hangover-induced headache right now so he'd have an excuse not to think any further. But the aspirin the doctor gave him prevented that luxury.

He couldn't help but muse that things were definitely simpler like this: oblivious and away from the outside world with Nikita asleep on his lap. Maybe in some alternate reality, this could last forever.

Because he really didn't know what to feel.

To be honest, a part of him was rather glad that he was with Nikita. Even married to her. Because if given the chance, he wouldn't have it in any other way. He wanted her to be at his side, his equal, his partner. He couldn't explain it but she just had this aura around her that brought out feelings from him. Feelings that he had forgotten. Though she frustrated him at times but she made him happy and _alive _again. That's why, gradually and unconsciously, she had become a constant fixture in his life. And seeing her has become one of the reasons why his life and Division didn't seem so dull and dragging anymore. Like a drug, he was hooked. And really, with her, he could see a future. A purpose.

But then there were also Elizabeth and Haley. Would they want him to be with Nikita? Was he cheating on them? They may be gone but their memories still haunted him. Especially the memories of their last moments. It was a constant reminder to him that he still had some unfinished business to attend to before anything else. He had to deal with the person responsible before he could move forward. 5 years has passed and he was nowhere near to finish things. He still loves his deceased wife and child but he has already held on to so much hate and hurt in his clouded heart for so long that he's afraid it might consume him. He's confused and conflicted. He now wants a future but he can't let go of his past. He just can't… He's been told many times that he holds on to too much of the past.

Even though he knows that putting his past to rest can set him free.

Percy and Nikita have promised him that they'll help. But since their wants and ideals contradicted, he could only choose one.

Then again, choosing one over the other will have tremendous consequences. If he picked Nikita, Percy could take it as treason and ungratefulness after everything he's done for him. He'll consider Nikita as a distraction and personal baggage. And Percy could order her instant cancellation, if not both of them. He couldn't do that to Nikita. He just cared for her too much. But then, if he picked Percy, he knew Nikita wouldn't understand. It'll hurt her for sure. She was already vocal to him about her disdain for her boss and his unwavering loyalty to him. Choosing Percy over her would just drive a twenty-foot wedge in between him and Nikita. She just didn't understand that he wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.

No matter what, Michael still owed Percy his life, and for giving him another chance. He'll always be forever grateful for that.

But could he choose – love or duty – and stand firmly by his decision?

* * *

><p><em>He slipped a diamond ring on her finger. "I will always be here for you."<em>

_The smile that graced her lips made her entire face glow. She watched him affectionately as she pulled him to a stand from his kneeling position on the floor. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gazed deeply into his piercing green eyes and said, "Always."_

_His lips formed into his signature smirk before he held her chin in between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her._

_The small group of people who gathered around them cheered._

Nikita's eyes fluttered open.

Feeling a little disoriented, her trained senses took control. She was still a bit groggy but she studied her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that everything was on their side. A second later, she realized that she was lying down. And she was sweating.

Feeling a hand tighten infinitesimally around her shoulder, she too tensed up. Her muscles instinctively readied themselves to protect her self. _Always be on guard_, Division would be so proud. But somehow, she felt something different. That she was safe. And her sixth sense hasn't proven her wrong just yet. Taking a chance, she rolled over slightly and looked up. To her immediate ease, it was only Michael, watching over her closely. She relaxed. But then she also noticed that he was uncharacteristically quiet. In his eyes, Nikita saw concern and relief pass, and then it was replaced with… something she didn't know.

Something that didn't feel right.

Wait, was she resting on his lap?

Wordlessly and slowly, Nikita pulled her self to sit up. Michael let go of her without any resistance, but still wary of her actions.

Nikita looked around the room, confused. It was circular but a section was made of frosted glass to let sunlight in, the rest of the walls were mauve in color, and there was some sort of white smoke floating lazily from a huge metal vase in the middle of the room. She didn't know where they were, or how they got there, or why the heck was it sweltering hot. But this definitely was not their hotel room, she was sure of that.

"Where –?" she asked, turning to face him. Her throat was a bit scratchy and hoarse.

"In a sauna," Michael told her, seeming rather distant, "like you requested."

A sauna? Well, that would explain the heat. But why would she ask for a sauna? She didn't remember…

Oh.

Right.

The memories of what happened flooded her mind. Las Vegas, the call from Birkhoff, what supposedly happened last night, the alcohol and the drugs, her hazy morning, her withdrawal –

_The Ketamine_!

As if reading what was troubling her, Michael handed over the answer to her confusion. Nikita took the glass vial in her hands and read the label. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she looked at him, her eyebrows knitting together. She questioned, "How –?"

"Apparently, Birkhoff has his contacts," Michael shrugged lightly and a bit nonchalant for her taste, "He made a call to a doctor who lives around here and got you that and me a couple of aspirin."

"Remind me to thank him when we get back," Nikita couldn't help but let out a small smile. No matter what he'd say, Birkhoff was definitely a good friend.

"Nikita," Michael said, rather affectionately than he would've liked. He was failing miserably at trying to distance his self from her. The moment she woke up, Michael just wanted to hug her. Hold her close, make sure that she was alright. But he reminded himself what he should do, should've done a long time ago. Placing his hands on either side of him, gripping the concrete ledge of what they were sitting on, he steadied himself as he asked her, "how do you feel?"

Nikita looked at him and saw for a fraction of a second, an overwhelming pent-up emotion, but it disappeared before she could figure out what it was.

"A lot better," she admitted, staring down at her red fuzzy-slippered feet. All around, she was okay though there was still some slight lightheadedness whenever she made some movements. But she could definitely handle it. The worst was over anyway. And the knowledge that Michael stayed with her during the whole time watching over her made her feel all warm inside. She touched his right hand lightly and said to him gently, "Thank you."

Michael looked straight ahead. If the walls weren't made of concrete, they probably would've already melted at the intensity of his gaze. He didn't want to do this but he had to. But he just can't forgive his self to hurt her. Yet again. He just hoped and prayed that Nikita would someday see that he was doing this for both of them. Pulling his hand away from her's, he told her coldly, "I'm just doing my job."

Nikita's hand remained where it was, stunned. Michael's comment was unceremoniously harsh. She looked at him but he didn't face her. But there was something in Michael's expression that bothered her, making her uneasy. She didn't understand. It was almost as if... he'd had enough.

"Michael –?" she started to say but stopped when he shifted his hand and the gold glint from his ring caught Nikita's attention.

Her jaw slackened as she stared at the small piece of jewelry in awe. Involuntarily, her thumb caressed the underside of the matching ring on her right hand. It all clicked. Like pieces to a puzzle, everything made sense. Nikita realized that it was Michael's defensive mechanisms taking control. What happened last night pulled him out of his comfort zone too much and now he was withdrawing, doing damage control. He was clamming up on her...

But they were too far into it now. She won't give up that easily.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, "Michael, about last night…"

"Don't, Nikita." He didn't even blink. He just kept staring into the distance.

Typical Michael. She said, "So we're not even going to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," he told her firmly. He focused on a single spot across the room, not daring to glance at Nikita. He didn't dare to face her because he feared it might weaken his determination in what he was about to do. He laughed inwardly. Division's second-in-command was actually scared to face a woman, who would've thought? "Last night was just a temporary lapse of judgment. It will never happen again."

"So you mean everything last night," Nikita's eyebrows knitted. She knew there was an angle to this but she was losing it. She had a feeling on how this was all going to go down. But she was still exhausted physically and mentally to think about it, much less to deal with the drama. Even so, she struggled to fight it. Her stubbornness would not let her back down. She wanted an answer. Swallowing hard, she said, "that was just the drugs and alcohol talking?"

His reply was a curt, "Yes."

"You are such a bad liar, Michael." She jeered, her way of masking the hurt she was feeling.

"What do you want me to say, Nikita?" Michael snapped, finally looking at her. His eyes like hard, emerald ice.

"I want you to be honest with me!" she shot back, fiercely. She couldn't understand why Michael was doing this to her, backing her to a corner, when she had just recovered. She stared directly into his eyes. Brown against green. There was anger in his eyes, Nikita saw. But there was also pain. Pain that she didn't understand. Why would _he_ be hurt when that was exactly what he was doing to _her_? She told him, in a low voice, "I deserve at least that much."

"You want to know what I think? _Fine_!" He spat, standing up. He couldn't deal with this sitting down with Nikita just within an arm's reach. The look of pain in her eyes was weakening his resolve. Why couldn't he do this properly? He was so frustrated at his self and that feeling seeped into his voice, "None of this would've happened if you listened to me, Nikita! You knew that I already said 'no' but you kept on insisting!"

"You think this is all _my_ fault?" Nikita scoffed, getting defensive. Her emotions were clouding her thoughts but she didn't care anymore. She stood up, ignoring the slight dizziness that affected her, and went in front of Michael, their faces merely inches apart. She stared at him closely, searching his eyes for some answer but not finding any. She hissed angrily, enunciating every word, "Michael, if you had half the self-control you had as to your _sickening_ loyalty to Percy, you could've just said 'no' and _walked away_."

A few moments passed as they continued to glare at each other. Not one backing down. The tension palpable in the air. Nikita wanted an explanation, an answer. One that Michael could not give. But what she said was spot on. He could've walked away but he didn't. He never took that chance because he didn't want to. He didn't even think he'd have to strength to do so. She was just that too important to him.

He broke their gaze and turned away, smiling ruefully. So much for trying to end things easily. He should've known better.

Turning back to face her, Nikita saw a subtle change in Michael's expression. It wasn't as intense anymore. But it wasn't relaxed either. There was some sadness and defeat into it.

She interpreted this as his surrender.

He'd given up.

On them.

He didn't have to say it. She already saw it in his eyes. And it shattered her heart.

He started, "I'm sor–"

"Don't," she pleaded softly. _Don't do this to us_, was what she wanted to say to him but the words never got past her lips.

"Nikita–"

"Don't, Michael." Nikita turned away, trying to control a sob that formed in her chest. She couldn't believe it. After all this time, after what they've been through, he'd just give up that easily? Give up on them?

The hurt and the pain were visible on her face. And it was clawing his insides. But Michael reminded himself that it was for the best, "Last night was a mistake."

"It doesn't have to be," she tried to reason, turning back to face him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. They were stinging the corner of her eyes but she wouldn't let them fall. Her fallen tears would mean she would've given up too. But she won't, even though she could literally feel her heart splitting in her chest.

Michael shook his head lightly, "It could never work."

Nikita was silent at first. And then, in a barely audible voice, she said, "If we were still in Division."

"What?"

"We could disappear," Nikita reasoned with him quickly, her voice growing stronger. The thought of escaping Division has been crossing her mind for some time now. She was getting sick and tired of all the missions being given to her. Division was slowly killing her humanity and she couldn't let that happen. But she couldn't leave without Michael. She couldn't abandon him in that wretched place. She couldn't do that to him. She needed him to see that they could do this together. That they still had a chance at a better life, "You said so yourself that Division, _Percy_, was getting out of hand. That this is not what you signed up for."

"Nikita," he looked at her sadly, "you know I couldn't do that."

"Why?" she pushed. She wanted to know the reason. She knew he could definitely handle life outside Division. Heck, he was the strongest person she'd ever met. But something was holding Michael back, making him decline the offer. And then she remembered what he told her in St. Petersburg, "Because of Kasim? We could find him on the outside, Michael. I promised I'd help you bring him down."

"It's not just Kasim."

"Then who is it? _Percy_?" she asked, suspicious. She tried her best to think of other options. She thought Michael's desire for revenge on Kasim was the only one holding him back. He was hiding something from her. And she didn't know why or what it was. But she figured that Percy had something to do with it. Didn't Michael see that Percy was not all that he was cracked up to be? That he was better off without the man? She held his arms and looked deeply into his troubled eyes, "Michael, you've done enough in service of him. It's time you did something for your self."

"I just can't, Nikita." Michael said, breaking her gaze and looking down at the floor. He didn't even bother to correct her assumptions, believing that it'll make it easier for her to let go.

But Nikita's grasp tightened as well as her voice, "Can't or won't?"

Michael sighed. The suggestion to leave Division was tempting. For a second, he was almost swayed even. But if they were on the run, they would forever be looking over their shoulders. He knew Percy would not rest until he could contain them. The two of them just knew too much for their own good. And they'd be lucky if they weren't killed within a week after their trackers would go offline. Well, a week was even pushing it. Because _no one _escapes Division. And Michael knew better than anyone that the place had eyes and ears _everywhere._

But if they continued to remain inside Division, Michael could watch out for Nikita. Protect her like no one else can, just like when she was a recruit. That's why he couldn't leave. It was to protect her. But staying with Division also meant sacrificing his relationship with her. A price that they had to pay. A bargain that he had to accept just to keep her safe. Unlatching her grip away from him, he told her, "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me!" A single tear rolled down her mocha cheek.

He fought the urge to wipe the tear away from her beautiful face. "Just focus on getting better right now."

Her hands dropping to her sides, she silently watched as Michael turned away from her and went back to the place where they've been sitting on earlier. He opened a rectangular container and took out a rolled up piece of paper. Brushing past her, the paper in his hands, he made his way to the metal vase in the middle of the room. She moved to stand next to him just as he placed the paper on top of the red hot coals in the open furnace.

It didn't take a second before the paper caught fire. Bits of coal snapping at the foreign object. Little flecks of ember jumping lightly in the air. The burning paper curled upwardly, unrolling, giving Nikita a peek of what the document contained before it was lost forever. The two-word heading robbed the breath out of her.

It was their marriage contract.

But like everything else right now, she couldn't save it anymore. She could only watch. Like everything they had for the past years, it was ending up in flames. The fire voraciously licking and burning the paper before their very eyes. And in a matter of seconds, the document was reduced to ashes, blending and mixing with the glowing coals.

Michael clenched his hands to hide that it was actually trembling. It took most of his strength to throw the piece of paper into the furnace. But he had to destroy the evidence of anything that ever happened between him and Nikita. Any physical proof posed a threat of being discovered. He had to do this to protect the two of them. But it didn't mean that it didn't hurt him inside. It did. More so than anybody will ever know. But his hurt deepened when he reluctantly yet slowly took off the gold ring from his finger and dropped it into the mouth of the vase.

He swallowed hard as the gold band slowly turned black because of the soot. There weren't any special engravings on the ring that could let it be traced back to him so he didn't bother that much on destroying it. The heat from the coals wouldn't be hot enough to melt the metal but it would still be enough to blacken it and disguise it in case for some reason, someone would dig through the used coals of the sauna. Michael may have had the strength to destroy their marriage contract but he couldn't bring his self to do the same to his wedding ring. Although he knew they'd probably never see it again, but he got some comfort that, at least, it was still whole somewhere. A sliver of hope that he could hold on to that proved he and Nikita shared a connection at one point.

There was a small _clink_ as another metal hit the other. Michael saw that a matching yet smaller ring suddenly joined his blackened one. He turned to his side to look at Nikita, surprised. He didn't mean for her to do the same to her ring because not a lot of people would question a woman like her wearing jewelry. But him, keeping or wearing one would raise a lot of questions, especially when he spent most of his time inside Division.

Still, he felt slightly better at the knowledge that their wedding rings would stay together. Lost, but together.

He returned his gaze back to the glowing embers. Silently, they stood side by side, watching as gold turned to black. Slowly marring. Like their relationship.

"I don't believe it," Nikita whispered softly. If Michael's trained hearing wasn't sensitive enough, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

He turned his head slightly to face her. The heat emanating from the furnace formed droplets of sweat along her hairline. The glow from the embers threw her sharp features in high relief. Her sad, glistening brown eyes reflected the orange-red flame. He gazed at her as she slowly closed her eyes and sighed.

Opening her eyes, she looked up to Michael. She couldn't do this anymore. Her voice shook and her lower lip trembled, "I can't believe that I had faith in you. I can't believe that I waited for you." She blinked, trying to stop the tears. But it was no use, they were free falling now. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, "That in some part of me, I hoped that maybe, just _maybe_, you'll be honest with your self and choose me over Division. _Pick love over duty_."

Her words were heartbreaking yet sincere. And like a stab from a dagger, it cut deep through Michael. In that instant, he wanted to reach out to her, to pull her close to him, to tell her that it's not what she thinks. It will always be her. Her over Division. But things were complicated enough to begin with. He can't put her in danger for something he wants so selfishly. He can't let another person he loves die in front of his eyes.

Willing his self to turn away from her, he breathed deeply trying to control his voice as he told her, "You placed your faith in the wrong person."

"I know that now." She told him, dejectedly. In a lower voice, she whispered, "You should have told me before I..." Trailing off, she bit her lower lip.

Choosing to ignore her last comment, Michael walked back and gathered his things from the heat-proof container. Now that Nikita was relatively better and awake, he could call Birkhoff and tell him to alert the contracted pilot that they'll be leaving the island shortly. He couldn't bear to stay here any longer.

It was on his way to the door that led out of the sauna when she spoke again. She said, her voice devoid of any other emotion but chagrin, just a simple statement, "I guess we'll always have Fiji."

Michael stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He glanced sideways, his lips forming a hard line. Opening the door, he muttered back, "Fiji."

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh, Nikita, where are you<em>?"

"_Fiji. I needed some R and R._"

"_Yes, I heard Nadi is excellent this time of year._" – 1x06

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so maybe a "Caution: Drama Alert" should have been placed beforehand. XD<strong>

**Anyway, how did you find it?**

**Leave a Review and let me know! I would love to hear from just anyone and everyone! :D**

**Aaand… I don't know about the next chapter yet because I still have to write the thing. Though I know how it's gonna play out and I've already written some parts of it… it's just that season 2 is completely sidetracking me! Haha. Mikita is so all couple-y and cute and adorable and kickass, etc etc… and here I am writing a drama and angsty fic. Don't get me wrong, I just love _love LOVE _that their together. I can't even put it into words! :D**

**But I need some inspiration! Some Mikita angst! And that Cassandra chick might be what I'll have to wait for. I know every Mikita fan (including me) is gonna try to have her neck when she comes. Haha! Gah. So anyway, just be patient, pretty pretty please? I swear I'll post the last chapter soon! **

**Again, THANK YOU so much for taking time to read! And review!**

**'Til the next update! Keep on being the best badass people of the world! ;)**

**xx Dani**


	5. Chapter 5: Falling Apart

***raises hands in surrender and waves a white flag***

**Please don't kill me.**

**Okay, so this last chapter is way, way, **_**WAAAAY, **_**supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious-kind-of-overdue. I sincerely, from the deep recesses of my heart, apologize to everyone.**

**I already had ¼ of this story written when suddenly, poof! My inspiration fluttered away. It's been gone for the last 1 year and 2 months. I've only slowly gotten it back late last month, so I decided to put it all into writing before it disappeared again. Luckily, I've already written bits and pieces of the chapter beforehand so it did help in speeding the writing process a bit.**

**Still, I'm sorry for having everyone wait so long.**

**So, before I bid a teary goodbye and click the 'Complete' button to this story, I give you all the last chapter. **

**Drama ahead, okay? And I hope you enjoy reading!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5: Falling Apart<span>

"_There is no us. There never was._" – 1x17

"_Are you sure you're up to this mission?"_

"_Do I have a choice?"_

"_Not really. But perhaps I could recommend to Percy to give you another day or two off."_

"_I can handle it."_

"_But you seem a little off-color."_

"_Yeah, I heard being sick does that to a person."_

_The sound of a pen scratching over paper hung over the room rather hauntingly. After what seemed like an eternity, it stopped. There was a soft _thud_ as a notebook was placed on the glass table in front of them. "So how is Michael?"_

_Nikita's hand tightened indiscernibly around her teacup. Her breathing threatened to hitch but she managed to catch it just in time before it made itself known. She distracted herself by taking a sip of tea – Earl Grey, by the aroma and taste of it._

"_I thought this was _my _debriefing?" Nikita reminded the questioner, after she managed to force the tea down her throat._

_Amanda gave a brief smile. Her eyes flashed as she noted the agent's subtle deflection and slight discomfort in the topic. Though she had to give credit that Nikita hid it very well, but she knew the agent inside-out. Well, she _is_ one of her most successful and prized pet projects. And she'll do anything to keep her under her control._

"_Yes, but since we are finished with _that_," Amanda crossed her fingers daintily on top of her lap and leaned back casually on the white leather sofa, "let's move on to other matters. We haven't had much opportunity to talk recently, apart from debriefings."_

"_Well," Nikita managed to give a tight smile, "Percy just gives me missions left and right."_

"_That maybe the case. Anyhow, you have long since proven yourself, Nikita. You should be proud. Not every agent has shown incredible talent and gained favor in everyone, most especially Percy," Amanda reached for her own teacup and took a sip from it. Cradling the ceramic cup back in her hands, her gaze flicked over to the agent's face, almost as if trying to catch any errant reaction. With a small smile forming on her red lips, she said, "That is, of course, including Michael. But I think you already know that."_

_A lump formed in Nikita's throat. Her heart gave a tight squeeze. She didn't want to talk about _him _right now._

_Because _he _was… well, a touchy subject at the moment._

_And she could bet that Amanda would just love to hear the reason behind _that_. But why should she give what the woman wants? Then again, the only thing that'll make her shut up was to play along with this game of poker of emotions. So Nikita just blinked and flatly told the older woman, "I'd assume that you debriefed Michael so you'd know better on how he's feeling. I'm sure he's fine."_

_Nikita repressed the urge to breathe a small sigh of relief that her voice didn't crack when she said his name._

"_Funny," Amanda commented thoughtfully, a ploy to trap the agent with her words, "he seemed pretty torn up about something."_

_Nikita's face remained stoic. A veneer that protected the chaos of emotions she was currently feeling at that statement. Anger. Pain. Hurt. Sadness. Confusion. Ambivalence._

"_If he is," Nikita said, trying her best to steady her voice. The grip she placed on her teacup tightened. She shook her head lightly, "he didn't say anything to me."_

"_Really?" Amanda questioned before taking a sip again. Her eyes lighted up with skepticism and a hint of excitement, knowing that she just might have uncovered something interesting. "Strange. Because I distinctly remember hearing some raised voices in Logistics earlier. And if my hearing hasn't failed me yet, they undoubtedly sounded like you two. Do you know anything about that?"_

_Nikita felt like her heart dropped to her stomach at that moment. Her breath seemed to freeze in her lungs. She wasn't sure if she paled right then and there or not. But since Amanda's expression somehow remained the same, she silently thanked that she had much control of her body than she would've thought._

"_No." She narrowed her eyes slightly, feigning confusion. No matter what, Nikita knew she had to maintain eye contact. Show that Amanda wasn't getting to her, that she was unaffected (even if she was beginning to). Looking away would mean she was guilty. "Don't know about that."_

"_Hmm," Amanda pursed her lips in disbelief, but, thankfully, she took the agent's word with a bat of an eyelash, "Maybe I was just mistaken."_

"_Maybe." Nikita said softly. She edged closer off her seat, set the teacup on the table, and stood up slowly, "Now, as much as I enjoyed this, I do have to go, Amanda. My flight is in three hours and I still have to pack some things."_

"_Oh, of course." Amanda smiled calmly. "We'll continue this chat some other time then."_

"_Right." Her feet carried her to the door almost instinctively._

"_And, Nikita?"_

_Nikita stopped a few paces from the door. She clenched her hand briefly in annoyance. So near. She really wanted to get out of there now. Turning around, a hard smile was on her lips. "Yes?"_

"_Remember, I'm just a phone call away." Amanda gazed at her, almost in a proud-mother kind of way, "You can always talk to me. I will always be here for you."_

_Her chest suddenly tightened so much it was getting hard to breath._

_She gave a small nod and fled out of there before a sob formed in her throat._

I will always be here for you_, it rang in her ears._

_That's what _he _told her too._

_And look where that got them._

Nikita shook her head at the memory. No more thinking of that. She's done enough thinking and wallowing for the past four days.

Time to start anew.

New place, new name, new people.

She was a different person.

A cover, yes. But _new_.

Retrieving her key from her back pocket, Nikita strolled leisurely to the elevator that would take her to her new apartment on the 5th floor.

Stepping inside the elevator and pressing the button, Nikita closed her eyes. Inhaling deeply, the smell of freshly baked bread, oranges and cinnamon from the brown bag of groceries on her arm filled her senses and brought her to a relatively happier and calmer place. The most tranquil she had ever been these past days. She couldn't take anymore of this inner turmoil. She definitely had to get a grip. Move on.

Her cover needed it. _She_ needed to.

Opening her eyes slowly, she was met by distorted images of her. Reflections from the inside of the glossy silver-grey elevator. Almost instantly, the familiarity of the scene made her eyes prickle and her throat thicken. She blinked a few times. Why did everything have to remind her of Division?

Remind her of _him_?

Especially when things ended badly the way they did last time.

_Walking down the hallways of Division, Nikita had her head bent down, lost in thought. She couldn't believe this. How could he do this to her? Give her this assignment?_

_Never in her whole life had she ever felt this betrayed. Or confused._

_After everything they've been through in their last mission and Fiji, would Michael really take the coward's way out and just send her away on a deep undercover mission in Chicago rather than confront her? Deal with the complications?_

_But no matter what the reason may be, it didn't offer any solace to the ache in Nikita's chest. It was like something inside her broke, splintering her within. As if she wasn't shattered enough._

_Distracted, she wasn't able to prepare when someone grabbed her from behind. One arm around her waist, locking her arms to her sides, and the other, over her mouth, preventing her from yelping in shock. A second of surprise was all it took for her captor to drag her to an empty and dark room. When her trained senses of self-preservation finally took over, she struggled. Kicking, squirming, bucking, anything and just everything but the arms around her were strong, securing her in place._

"_Stop it," a rough voice whispered harshly in her ear._

_She paused._

_That voice. _

_And then Nikita remembered that she was still inside Division so she was safe. No one was after her life._

_At least, not yet. _

_It was only then that she calmed down. But her traitorous heart didn't show any signs of slowing down. If anything, it sped up even more. A second passed and then she realized what was happening and then she stiffened._

_What the _hell_?_

_But it was also at that moment that Michael released her to turn on the lights._

"_What was that about?" Nikita demanded, spinning on her heel to face him._

"_We have to talk." He told her, crossing his arms against his chest._

_Pulling on the hem and straightening her black blazer, she gritted her teeth. She could already feel her anger seeping under her skin at the mere sight of him. It was taking all of her willpower not to lash out right then. Breathing deeply, she glared at him. "We have _nothing_ to talk about."_

"_Then at least, hear me out, Nikita."_

"_No." She stated, defiantly. Her voice almost broke but she managed to control it. She didn't know if how much longer she could continue on though, before breaking down. So, to save herself from doing that in front of the one person she did not want to see right now, she turned sharply and made a beeline for the door._

_But just as she took a step away, Michael grabbed her by the arm, turned her back around, and shoved her to the concrete wall. Before Nikita could make sense of what was happening, he trapped her with his body, his strong arms flanking her shoulders. He leaned close to her, giving her no chance to look at anything else but him. The rough handling, their proximity, the way his breath was ghosting her cheek… it was disconcerting._

_Nikita swallowed._

_In a low, sharp tone, he demanded, "Listen to me."_

_But a faint, almost quiet desperation had also escaped into his voice._

_And it didn't go by unnoticed._

_For one fleeting moment, Nikita almost gave in. Because Michael _needed_ her to. Her heartstrings pulled at that knowledge. And also because his piercing green gaze was almost too much. It almost broke through her wall of anger and hurt._

_But she somehow found the strength to stop herself. _No_, she wasn't going to fall for it this time. _

"_I already know what you're going to say." She hissed. The steely look in her eyes would have scared anyone, but it didn't seem to affect him. She also crossed her arms tightly against her chest, digging her nails into her skin to control her flaring temper. Careful to enunciate every word, she snarled, "You already made your _point_, Michael. _You _made sure that I got it: _There is no 'us'. There never was_."_

_Nikita wasn't sure if it was hurt that briefly flashed through Michael's emerald green eyes. It happened too fast._

_But then again, what did she know? She could've been wrong. She had been wrong about a lot of things lately. Especially when it came to them – no, her and Michael._

"_No, you don't." His lips mashed into a hard line. Nikita saw his eyes glint before he shook his head and told her, "You don't understand, Nikita."_

"_Then, tell me!" Nikita exclaimed fiercely. She was trying so hard to keep her voice steady as she could already feel a tickle at the back of her throat and her eyes were beginning to sting at the formation of tears. She knew that she was beginning to give in to her emotions. But she couldn't have that. She _had_ to be angry. Because anger was what she could deal with. Anger was familiar. Anger was her way of coping. Her tone turned accusatory when she continued, "Because it sure as hell looks that way to me, Michael. Tell me, you're not sending me deep undercover in _Chicago _just so you don't have to see my face around here and deal with what happened. Tell me that's not true."_

_Michael closed his eyes for a second. "It's not that simple."_

"_Because you make it complicated." She told him through gritted teeth._

_He let out an exasperated sigh before roughly looking away from her. He remained silent, but she could feel the frustration and tension that rolled off of him in waves._

_Glaring at the side of Michael's face, Nikita raised a hand to rub her arm, the spot where he had grabbed her earlier. It surprisingly throbbed a bit. But it could never come close to what she felt inside._

_He had hurt her, betrayed her trust – in him, and in both of them. The totality of it all made her heart ache so much._

_And yet, here she still stood. Trapped in between Michael's arms. Fighting a one-sided battle for something that will most likely destroy them both. She never seems to learn her lesson though – she still keeps on coming back. And she couldn't stop. Like an addict that she was before. Only this time, she could never find it in herself to do so, to find a cure. Not with him. Not with Michael. She didn't know how he could have this hold on her, have this control over her emotions, her thoughts… _

_Her heart._

_She almost hated him for it._

_But she hated herself more for it too._

_She was supposed to be stronger than this. She never needed anyone in her life._

_So how did she become so vulnerable when it came to him?_

_How did it ever come to this?_

_In a strained voice, Nikita asked, "Why are you doing this to me, Michael?"_

_He didn't answer._

_Nikita closed her eyes briefly and then hung her head low. She couldn't look at him. This was the closest they have been since their time in Fiji. The memory of it was still raw and sensitive like a new wound. They were so physically near each other that all they had to do was reach out if they wanted._

_But they didn't._

_She had managed to staunch the tears up to now, but it was getting so hard to prevent them from spilling. She couldn't help but think: is this how their relationship will end? Before everything else, she and Michael were great friends, the best even. He was her confidant, and she was his. They always had each other's backs no matter what. And she couldn't bear to lose that. But things have become so complicated now and it just added to the jumble of emotions she already felt. _

_She couldn't do this anymore._

_It wasn't until she placed her hands on Michael's chest to push him away that she heard his reply._

"_I can't handle any more big surprises from you, Nikita." He admitted. She looked up to face him. But he was staring at the spot just above her left shoulder, distant yet deep in thought. His voice was gruff as he explained, "That time, during your withdrawal, I realized that the way we live, everything you've worked for can unravel in mere seconds... And I can't stand by and watch that happen to you."_

_He still cared for her despite what he did or what she might think. That's what he wanted her to know._

_And no matter how hardened her heart may be right now, Nikita couldn't stop herself from feeling slightly, maybe just a tiny bit_ _better. Michael was being honest, she could tell. And with all that was going on, that's probably the only thing she wanted from him right now._

_But it still didn't change the fact of what he had done._

"_I recommended this mission for you because…" He continued. When his gaze flickered towards her, the expression in his green eyes had softened a little. "Because I was just trying to protect you."_

_Anyone else should have considered themselves lucky then (probably be grateful even), knowing that someone like Michael was looking out for their well-being despite the dangerous and self-serving nature of the world that they live in. But funny how anger and hurt can make a person react differently. Both emotions can become an efficient blindfold, especially for a person like Nikita, and not give her the desired effect Michael would have wanted her to realize. _

"_I don't need protecting!" She snapped, defensively._

"_Yes, you do."_

_In some other time or day, Michael's over-protectiveness might have endeared Nikita. But that moment was neither. Right now, it just irritated her to no end. She declared, "I can take care of myself."_

_He scoffed._

"_Is that before or after out last mission?" He admonished. His eyes narrowed at her, scrutinizing her. "Because it didn't seem like that to me."_

_Nikita didn't have an answer to that. To her perpetual annoyance. But the memories of what transpired in Fiji flashed through her mind's eye again. Michael had her there. And she knew that he knew it. So instead, she just gritted her teeth and stared at him, defiance and hostility glinting dangerously in her brown eyes._

_They stared at each other for a few seconds._

"_You don't see it, do you, Nikita?" Michael razed on._

_She absolutely hated the patronizing tone he was using on her. She growled, "See _what_?" _

"_Consequences. If anyone found out what happened to you, you could easily be cancelled." His expression turned hard as he continued to stare directly at her. "That is why this – _all of this_ – is for _you_. What I did, I did out of –"_

_If Nikita wasn't looking at Michael at that moment, she never would've seen the alarmed look he gave, realizing what he had said. Nor the color that had drained from his face as he caught what he was about to say. He had always been one to be articulate with what he says. This was the first time she had ever seen him slip._

_Her hands, which were still on his chest, curled slightly. She narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to continue. For one fleeting moment, Nikita quelled all the feelings she felt and became… _hopeful_. Anticipatory._

_But Michael abruptly looked away from her and cleared his throat. Acting as if nothing happened, he told her, more slowly this time, "Not wanting to see you get hurt."_

_As fast as the hopefulness came, it disappeared just as quick. How foolish had she been._

_He was never going to say it. Not now. Not ever. She should have known that. She knew how he acted. She knew who he was. Michael was never selfish enough to stand up for what he wanted. Even if all his actions said otherwise, he'd never do anything to betray his _precious_ Division. It would have to leave him first before he did. He was loyal like that. _

_And it just angered Nikita all the more._

"_That was not your choice to make." She firmly rebuked as he took a step away from her, releasing her from the confines of his arms. He was letting her go, shutting her out once again. She still couldn't believe it. Believe him. After everything… Her hands fell to her sides, clenched into fists. It took all of her strength not to hit him._

_But Michael just stared at her. His gaze dark but empty of any other emotion. That stoic, indifferent mask she had seen him use at other people, was now being shown to her. He shook his head and said, "There weren't that many to choose from. I was only thinking of you."_

"_No!" Nikita shook her head, her long hair whipping. Her brown eyes were sharp and glistening. "You made the decision for me!"_

_Michael didn't offer a reply to that. He just gave her one last glance before turning away from her and headed for the door._

_But Nikita managed to catch the sad, almost agonizing expression that had flitted briefly through his green eyes. No matter what Michael says, this was hurting him too. So she couldn't understand why he was doing this when he was clearly suffering as well. Whatever danger that was looming over them, they could face it. They could do it. Together. Why couldn't he see that? _

_Then a revelation entered Nikita's mind. That was it – Michael didn't trust _in_ them._

_The thought made Nikita's broken heart rip even more in her chest. Her lower lip quivered._

_She stared at Michael's retreating form._

_Nikita knew that by the time that they will leave this room, everything would never be the same again._

_Everything will end the way it was now._

_Could she let that happen?_

_Michael was already near the door when the words came. A stroke of panic. One last attempt to save what they had… could have. Nikita's voice echoed around the empty Logistics room. "Did you ever stop to think how I would feel?"_

_That made him stop._

_A tear finally broke through and rolled down Nikita's cheek. Her voice shook as she added, "You have no idea how much you mean to me, Michael. No idea."_

_She heard him release a pent-up sigh. When he turned around to face her, he almost seemed to have broken down himself. A crack in his mask. His whole body was tense. For a short second when he stared directly into her eyes, she saw how he felt too, his true self. How much of this and her pain and sadness had cut and seared into him._

_But then he blinked and everything disappeared. In its place was an expression Nikita had come to hate. Because it wasn't _him_, it wasn't Michael._

_It was that look that almost all seasoned agents possessed. That cold, deadened, inhuman expression. It was Division._

"_I'm sorry, Nikita."_

_That was it._

_Three words._

_Nikita felt like all the air in her lungs had turned to ice. She had lost. She had bared everything but _still_, Michael had chosen Division over her. Duty over love._

_He had made his choice. _

_And it didn't include her._

_Another tear fell. Another rip in her damaged heart. Another person had left her._

_Yet again._

_Maybe it was time that she made her choice too._

_She had to._

_Swallowing the huge lump that had burned in her throat, Nikita went up to Michael. She didn't even know how she managed to get her legs moving. It did take a bit of effort though – aside from everything else, she was still recovering from an accidental relapse after all. Her heart was beating rapidly against her chest. Gazing up at him, she noted how uncertainty seemed to pass through his eyes. Especially when he glanced down at her clenched fists._

_Good, Nikita couldn't help but think. He deserves to doubt on whether she'd hit him or not. Because she really did feel like it at the moment._

"_Well, I'm sorry too, Michael." She told him. The resent in her voice was easily marked, but she didn't care anymore. Too much has already been said. Too many things have already been done. It wasn't like they could take back anything now. They were way past that. Might as well say their piece and be done with it. "Sorry that you'll always put Division over everything else. Even before your own heart."_

_Michael blinked, taking in what she said. Something changed in his expression then. A nerve in his jaw twitched as he narrowed his eyes at her. _

_It was a tense moment. But Nikita didn't back down. Her anger gave her that strength. She just stared back, holding her stance. She had nothing to apologize for. Everything she had just said was true. Michael had to know that. He had already been blinded so much that he still didn't see the truth even if it was staring at him in the face._

"_An emotionally-compromised agent is more dangerous than a jammed gun," Michael stated tersely. The expression in his eyes was dark and haunting. He straightened a bit as he continued, "You have to check your feelings or check out."_

_Nikita's eyes widened slightly in disbelief of what she just heard. Was he really trying to pull that crap over her?_

"_And how do you exactly want me to _check out_, Michael?" She shot back at him. Derision dripping from her voice. She still couldn't get over what Michael had just asked her to do. The whole idea seemed so ludicrous that she could almost laugh. "It's not like I could just flip a switch on my feelings and forget what happened."_

_But he didn't seem to find it amusing at all._

"_Yes, you could." He told her, staring into her eyes. There was no humor in the way he said it. He was about to add something else but then decided against it and clamped his mouth shut. He paused, hesitating and unsure on what he was going to say next. He even looked like he didn't want to. But then she saw the resolve in his eyes strengthen and he shook his head lightly. His voice was flat and coolly detached when he said, "Because you've done it before. Think of it as a mission. That I was just someone you slept with."_

_Nikita's gaze sharpened. She didn't like where this conversation was going. Michael was treading on extremely thin ice._

_But he continued, "Standard Raven Protocol, _Josephi_–"_

_The sound of the slap echoed around the room._

_The tension had finally spilled over, becoming too much._

_Everything was silent, save for the hum that perennially lingered behind the walls of Division. _

_After a few seconds, Nikita released the breath she had involuntarily held. The exertion had taken a toll on her physically, mentally, and emotionally. Her action seemed to surprise her more than it did to the receiver. She had never slapped anyone before. She was more of the fist-type. An open-handed slap had always seemed too degrading. But after what Michael said, it was like she had no other choice. Her hand just had a mind of its own._

_But God, did he deserve it._

_Visible, unshed tears made Nikita's brown eyes gleam. She glared at Michael, who had settled his gaze on the floor. He made no move to touch his reddened cheek, or even bother to acknowledge it. But she knew it hurt, considering her hand was still throbbing from inflicting it._

"_That's low, Michael," she uttered acidly in a low tone, barely masking her hurt. "Even for you."_

_Nikita turned sharply and went for the door. She had to get out of there fast. Her head and her chest were hurting so much. More tears were already making her vision blurry and she didn't want Michael to see that. There was an empty recruit's room just a few doors down the hall that Nikita could enter and gather her self up. Hopefully no one would be walking in that direction at that moment because she didn't want some nosy guard to rat her out to Amanda just before she was going to have a debriefing with her._

_Honestly, Nikita didn't know what to feel anymore. She was either too angry or too hurt. Both emotions clawing at her insides, tearing her apart, racing to overcome her._

_But when she got to the door, she found herself unable to go through it. Her legs wouldn't move. Not without her verbalizing what she needed Michael to know._

_She took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly._

"_I can't believe I loved you," she said in quiet voice, barely above a whisper. But she was sure Michael could hear her. Tracing a finger along the metal doorknob, Nikita kept her back to him. She didn't dare to turn around because she was still fighting to contain her emotions. Her lower lip was getting sore from her chewing on it. She wiped another tear that escaped her lashes. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she told him, "I don't know how long this mission's really gonna last but… I hope that with the time I'm gone, you'll realize that _that night _was the best mistake you could ever make. I just wish that when you do, it won't be too late."_

_And then with a sigh, she left._

_Not forgetting to slam the door as she did so._

Nikita blinked.

She repressed the sting that appeared behind her eyes whenever her thoughts drifted to that memory. Shifting the bag of groceries on her arm, she let out a shaky breath. It's already been four days and she hasn't really made any real progress with moving on. She tried to. But she just couldn't. Especially when she looked into the mirror and she could still see evidence that that fateful night really did happen. A constant reminder practically imprinted on her skin in the form of kiss marks – some already starting to fade, some not so much yet.

She did try scrubbing them out though, out of anger during her second night in her new apartment. The feeling of being lonely and having been thrust into a new city finally getting the best of her. A stupid decision that was though. Not only did the marks stubbornly remain, but it also appeared to have been emphasized even more. And with her skin having been rubbed so raw, it gave her a reddened look that resembled an allergic reaction.

But Nikita wholly accepted the physical sting nevertheless. It was a welcomed diversion from the emotional pain she had been harboring within, saving her from self-destructing even more.

Well, that, and the fact that she decided to give her poor punching bag a break. She didn't think the unfortunate object could hold off being the receiving end of her blunt rage for more than 2 straight days anymore.

By the end of the third day, with most of her energy spent, the mental anguish and other emotions had sneaked its way in. And she was too exhausted and too weak to try and keep it at bay. It forced its way into haunting her thoughts, even in her sleep. It tormented her with what she had done, who she had lost…

Michael.

It still broke her heart whenever she thought about him. But then she'd get angry at herself for being this needy and dysfunctional. Over a _guy_, no less. That wasn't like her. She wasn't some lovestruck teenager. He didn't want her. He made that clear. That was it. But guilt would still wash over her, blaming that she had brought this upon herself. That she knew the dangers of a recruit falling in love with an agent (much more being Percy's second-in-command), and she still decided to risk it. It was just too bad that her risk didn't reap any reward. Indignation would then fill her, rationalizing that this was not entirely her fault. Michael was too, just as much as she was. And then her anger would flare again, only this time directed towards him. His morals. His over-protectiveness. His total lack of a selfish streak in his body. His appeal to her…

And then she would be back at hating herself again.

It was a vicious cycle of emotions. One that Nikita knew had to run its course until it burned itself out so she could function again.

She still had yet to see that day.

If it wasn't for the need of basic necessities, Nikita didn't know when she would have ever left her apartment. But the thought of her ass getting hauled back to Division because she wasn't taking care of herself properly (God forbid that would ever happen because Amanda would surely have a field day) gave her enough strength to step out through the door.

She bought food and toiletries that would be enough to last her for a few days. Walking around to familiarize herself with the place before going back to her apartment, Nikita kept a keen eye on her surroundings. And from what she saw, she came up with two conclusions:

Chicago really was a windy city. Nikita had to remember that the next time she'd try to venture out of her apartment without a scarf.

And it was beautiful.

But one thing that somewhat seemed to bother Nikita was that she couldn't help to notice that the people seemed… friendly. She didn't know if it was just her but she definitely had a lot of civilians smile at her when they'd catch her gaze. And not even in a dangerous, evil, or lustful way she was accustomed to seeing in her world. No. Gracious smiles would settle on the lips of persons she did not even know.

It felt weird. Everything seemed so foreign to Nikita.

But she decided to chalk it up to not having met that much friendly people before. She left it at that.

Nikita could already feel herself starting to like Chicago though.

When the elevator pinged its arrival on Nikita's floor, she stepped out. She glanced at the corridor to her right, to check for anything out of the ordinary, before heading off to her own apartment in the opposite direction. Since this was her first time to leave her place after moving in, she still had yet to meet her 6 neighbors. She did figure out that a few doors down, one of them had a baby though. On Nikita's first night, the high-pitched wailing reached all the way to her apartment before the door shut on it. There was also one who played the violin a little out of tune. And she also heard a man's voice talking one night, much closer to her place, before another door closed on that too.

And yet things didn't seem out of the ordinary. Everything seemed so… mundane.

Nikita paused.

She looked around again. Doors lined on either side of the light yellow hallway. Doors that led to apartments that had people living in them. Families. Civilians. Innocents.

They were all so normal.

And she had to fit in with them? Make a life that will blend in with theirs?

It made her nervous.

She wasn't any of those. She never had a family (except for Division, but that was starting to disappear too). She can never be an innocent civilian because she has seen and done things that people would be terrified to even think about.

She can and will never be normal.

Back in her apartment in New Jersey, Nikita didn't have that issue. She didn't really care that much about what her neighbors thought of her since she spent most of her days in Division. Heck, she rarely saw those people even. But here in Chicago, she had nothing to do, nowhere to go. She had nothing but time.

Her jaw clenched, bitterness slipping into her veins again. All thanks to Michael and his _grace_.

Nikita drew a long breath as she stared at her apartment door a few feet away from her.

She will do this. She _can _do this.

She may never be a normal, innocent civilian but she can, for her life's worth, _try_.

No one in her new life will ever have to know who Nikita really is: the Division agent. The broken woman. The killer.

They will know her as Nikita the airline consultant. The strong, independent woman wanting to start fresh in a new city.

She'll make Michael see.

This was going to be her choice.

Nikita wasn't just going to live that lie.

She _will_ make it her life.

"_There is no easy way down_." – 1x02

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><p>~ The End ~<p>

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><p><strong>Omigosh. I just completed my first ever multi-chap story. Haha. I feel such a newbie to this.<strong>

**Anyway! So for the last time (at least for this story), tell me your thoughts on this chapter! If you want to rant, correct, criticize, complain, then by all means, go ahead. Leave a Review!**

**Okay, so in this story, it showed that the events that happened in the earlier chapters are what caused Michael into recommending Nikita for deep undercover (where she eventually met Daniel, and you all know the rest). I know it doesn't exactly match that in canon. But I wrote this story before we all got to know that it was their mission in Russia that caused all that. ;)**

**So here we go… To all those who have been with this since the beginning, to those who sent me PMs to continue, to those who have just read this, to those who have Faved and Alerted this story, I am and will be forever grateful for everyone. To the amazing reviewers, fanfiction writing would never have been so fun and enjoyable without you guys. **_**Thank you**__**.**_

**This fandom is just too amazing for words.**

**And now I can finally say that this story is Complete with a smile on my face.**

**Oh, and Happy 2013 everyone!**

**xx Dani**


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